


Dawn of War

by WhiteBear27



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 104,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23784130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteBear27/pseuds/WhiteBear27
Summary: Starfall taken. The Daynes raised by wolves. Can they take their home back? Can they change the fate of Westeros? The son of Arthur Dayne joins the Starks to find out. Rated T for language and graphic depictions of violence.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GAME OF THRONES OR ANY ASSOCIATED CHARACTERS**

**Hello everyone. I’ve been wanting to write a Game of Thrones story for a while now, but I couldn’t seem to come up with any ideas that hadn’t already been covered. I settled on this one, as House Dayne is my favorite house in the entirety of A Song of Ice and Fire. This story is also uploaded on Fanfiction, so if you want to keep up with it in real time, head over there. I'll be posting a couple chapters on here every few days. It's not perfect, and there are a few times I get the lore wrong by accident, but they are irrelevant to the story. So please, enjoy, and drop a comment if you did, it might motivate me to upload new sets of chapters more quickly.**

**Chapter 1**

_ 283 AC _

Austin woke to the sounds of swords clanging in the courtyard below his window. Slowly rising and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he moved over to the mirror, pausing to study his reflection. Austin was tall, for his age. His piercing deep purple eyes gave stark contrast to his shoulder length white hair, a signature of House Dayne.

Austin had been lonely for most of his days, as his father, Arthur, had left to join the Kingsguard when Austin was only two, and his mother had died giving birth to him. His only form of entertainment coming in his cousin, Edric, who was three years younger, so Austin couldn’t spar with him. Austin was nine now, and wished he had his father around him every single day. He’d met the man only once, at the tournament in Harrenhal, where he witnessed his father being beaten by Rhaegar Targaryen. That was two years ago. 

Currently, Robert’s Rebellion was winding down, with news of the sack of King’s Landing by the Lannister forces reaching Starfall only two weeks ago. Sighing, Austin began to dress for the day, donning a simple black tunic and trousers before slipping into his boots. He slipped out of his room and proceeded down the winding staircases of Starfall, emerging in the courtyard. 

The few men of House Dayne that remained in the castle were sparring and going through basic soldier drills to keep up their form should they be called on. That was unlikely, however, as there were only thirty of them, a skeleton garrison left only to protect the women and children of House Dayne. The rest of the men had followed Austin’s father, Arthur, into war. The Sword of the Morning, as he was known, was by far the most skilled and most deadly of the Mad King’s Kingsguard. His reputation and great feats were told across the entirety of the continent. At least until three of the Kingdoms and the Riverlands rose up against the crown after the executions of Brandon and Rickard Stark.

Austin leaned against a stone post and watched the men train. He desperately wanted to fight, but his father wasn’t here, and no one his age was around. The Master of Arms never liked Austin, so there wasn’t going to be much help there either.

Austin was jerked out of his thoughts by a man above the gate shouting. “Riders approaching!”

_ Who would be riding here? Maybe it’s father! _ Austin wondered, suddenly becoming very excited.

Excitement was replaced by confusion when two Northmen rode into the castle. They were both fairly young, and clearly battle-hardened. The one in the lead carried a bundle in his arms, and had a longsword strapped to his horse. The second was clutching his abdomen as if he was injured, and sure enough, when he dismounted, Austin could see blood.

“Austin, who is it?” asked a voice behind him. Turning, Austin was presented with his beautiful aunt, Ashara Dayne.

Austin shrugged. “Two Northmen, don’t know their names.”

Ashara motioned for Austin to follow. As she approached the men, Austin heard the breath catch in his aunt’s mouth. “Lord Eddard…” she whispered.

Collecting herself, Ashara strode the last few steps to greet the men. “Lord Eddard Stark, we had not thought to see you so far in the South,” Ashara began.

The Northern Lord looked up apologetically. “I’m sorry about this, but my Lord Howland Reed here is gravely injured, can I trouble you for some assistance?”

Ashara nodded firmly. “Of course, I’ll have the maester tend to him right away.” 

She snapped to two men, who escorted the wounded Northman into the castle before turning back to Lord Eddard. “However, you didn’t answer the question. What are you doing in Dorne, my lord?”

* * *

Two years. Two years since Lord Stark had brought news of his father’s death. The circumstances surrounding the deaths seemed to have bound the Stark and Dayne families for a long time to come. The thing Austin was most grateful for, however, was the return of Dawn, the Dayne ancestral family sword, given only to those knights who were worthy. It was unique in that respect, as most family swords were passed from lord to his heir, but not Dawn. The famed star-forged sword could be given to any man of the Dayne family, so long as he prove himself worthy of it. 

In these past years, Austin had often found himself praying in the Palestone Sword, the highest tower in all of Starfall, named for its pristine color. Austin would stare at the pedestal where Dawn rested, vowing to one day claim it and become just like his father. 

Oddly enough, Austin didn’t blame Lord Stark or Lord Reed for the death of his father. The circumstances had called for one of the two sides to emerge victorious, and fate had willed it to be the side of the Northmen. Lord Stark was only trying to reach his sister, who had died of an unknown cause before Eddard reached her. It was odd, though, that the honorable Lord Stark had sired a bastard son during the Rebellion, he didn’t seem the type.

All these thoughts ran through his head as he silently contemplated the world in his solitude. Rattling him out of his trance were the alarm bells. Sprinting to the balcony of the Palestone Sword, Austin looked out and saw several hundred riders amassing in the hills across the river from Starfall. Turning, he rushed out of the chamber and descended the stairs three at a time. Emerging into the main hall of Starfall, Austin spotted his aunt Ashara barking orders to the occupants of the castle, telling them to ready the defences.

“Aunt! Who are they?” Austin asked as he approached. 

Ashara whipped her head around to look at him, murderous intent set in her eyes. “Men from High Hermitage, it seems your older cousin Gerold has decided to overthrow the main house.”

“Can we defeat them?” Austin inquired, fear lacing itself into his voice.

“No,” Ashara said, slowly shaking her head. “They outnumber us, I suspect Gerold has enlisted the help of House Yronwood.”

“So what do we do?” Austin asked.

Ashara gave a small smile before bending down to place a hand on Austin’s shoulder. “You must leave here. Take your cousin Edric, two horses, and flee this place.”

Austin opened his mouth to protest before Ashara continued. “Do not argue with me boy, we will be fine here. Take your cousin, he is the heir. Protect him. He is the future of the house, as well as you.”

Austin’s head fell in defeat. “Where will we go?” he asked quietly.

“Go North. To Winterfell. To the Starks. Lord Eddard will look after you. Gerold wouldn’t dare try anything with the whole North behind the Starks,” Ashara explained, lifting Austin’s chin to look him in the eyes.

“Just the two of us? I’m so young…” Austin trailed off, clearly doubting himself.

Ashara gripped him by both shoulders. “Look at me. You are a Dayne of Starfall. You are the son of the Sword of the Morning. It’s time for you to grow up, and fast.”

Austin sniffed. He did not wish to leave his childhood home. Nevertheless, he nodded to his aunt, accepting his task. “Good, now run and find Edric.”

Austin spun on his heel and sprinted from the hall, headed for his cousin’s chambers. Throwing open the doors, he rushed over to Edric, who was sitting on the bed, knees to his chest, rocking back and forth, clearly afraid. Austin sat and put an arm around him. 

“Edric, I know you’re scared, but we need to leave, now,” Austin pleaded.

Edric looked at him with wet eyes before slowly nodding and allowing Austin to lead him from the room. The two of them hastily descended to the stables, where Austin began saddling the nearest two horses. When he finished, he turned to help Edric into the saddle, before hopping on his own. 

“Follow me,” Austin said, looking behind him. Young Edric simply nodded.

Austin clicked the reins and trotted across the courtyard, headed for the postern gate on one side of the castle. He waited for the sounds of battle to begin before riding out of the gate, headed for the hills. Looking back, he heard the screams of dying men, and the clanging of metal. But above all, what horrified him the most was the sight of his aunt Ashara throwing herself from the Palestone Sword.

* * *

“Austin, I’m tired,” Edric said from behind.

Austin sighed. “I know, Edric, me too. We’ll soon be deep into the hills, there we can find shelter.”

In truth, a million things were flying through Austin’s head right now. The thought of his father’s death, and how it had left them open for attack. How his aunt had decided to kill herself rather than come with them. How his traitorous cousin had held so much jealousy towards the main branch. Austin had met Gerold on several occasions, during feasts, and he seemed a good man. But actions speak louder than words.

The two of them ceased their travel just the sky fell out, and a torrential force of rain buffeted them from all sides. Fortunately, Austin had found a cave, and the two quickly took refuge inside. Austin made a fire, one of the skills he’d learned from the men in Starfall, who were all most likely dead now.

There was no time to weep for them, however, as Austin was tasked with the care of the Lord of Starfall. Edric’s father had died in the Rebellion, at the Trident, while his mother had died of an illness several years ago. Edric was the Lord, making Austin the heir. And yet here they were, two lords of House Dayne, huddled in a cave in the wilderness, seeking out the Starks of Winterfell. The situation may be funny under different circumstances, but Austin was forever scarred by the sight of his aunt’s falling form.

Edric was clearly still scared, and rightfully so. They were on the opposite side of Westeros from where they needed to be. Regardless, the two of them were exhausted, and Austin waited until Edric had fallen asleep before he allowed it to take him as well. 


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GAME OF THRONES OR ANY ASSOCIATED CHARACTERS**

**Chapter 2**

Three weeks they’d been on the road, cutting across country, headed north, always north. Austin had resorted to stealing from farmers as they passed their lands just so he could feed both himself and Edric. Two days ago, in Ashford, the Lord Leo Ashford had taken the boys for beggars and gifted them twenty gold dragons out of his own pocket as he left the city. Austin used half and bought them food for the next month or so.

Currently, Austin and Edric were halfway to Bitterbridge, where they would take the Roseroad to the Kingsroad, then on to Winterfell. Studying his surroundings, he took in the quiet of the wilderness around him, listening to every sound. There was a peaceful sense to it, before it was interrupted by Edric.

“How much longer, cousin?” the heir to Starfall asked.

Austin half turned in his saddle to look at his cousin. “To where? Bitterbridge? Or Winterfell?”

“Winterfell,” Edric clarified. 

Austin sighed. “We’re not even halfway there yet.”

Edric groaned behind him. Austin was going to lose his mind. The incessant complaining and bawling from Edric was seeing to that. 

_ I’m sorry aunt, but I may end up killing the kid before we even get halfway there, _ Austin said to himself.

The son of Arthur Dayne had barely finished his thoughts before he was alerted to the sounds of hooves in front of them. Austin held his hand out, signaling Edric to stop as they waited for the rider to show himself. It was at moments like these where Austin wished he was six years older and had a sword with him, but alas, he was just a boy of eleven. 

The rider emerged from a bend around a small grove of trees, giving Austin a full view of him. He looked rugged, a dark hood obscuring his features, and had a sword in plain sight, draped across his knees. That was when realization hit Austin. There was only one reason why the stranger would have his sword drawn. Upon seeing the two cousins, the stranger raised the sword towards them.

“‘And over all of your gold and food,” the man said, his accent revealing that he was clearly not of noble birth.

Austin held up his hands. “Ser, we do not want any trouble.”

The man wasn’t giving up, though. He nudged his horse closer to the cousins. “I said ‘and it all over.”

Austin decided that he was going to use all of his lordly negotiation and political skills that had been drilled into him by Ashara. As his hands were still up, he began to speak. “You have the look of a sellsword, not a thief. Would you be interested in a job?”

The man seemed intrigued. He lowered his sword and removed his hood. “Aye, you have a good eye. What kind of job?”

Austin let out a breath, lowering his hands. “The two of us need to get to Winterfell, safely, and as quickly as possible. Once we reach the castle, Lord Stark would reward you handsomely for your efforts.”

The man sheathed his sword. “And what if I refuse?”

“Then me and my cousin here will probably die, after you’ve robbed us of course. But all we have is ten gold dragons. There would be twenty times that amount waiting for you at Winterfell,” Austin shrugged.

The sellsword paused for a second, looking to be contemplating his options. Austin took this moment to study the man. He was young, couldn’t be out of his early twenties. His hair was greased back and curled at the ends, and he had a thin beard around his jawline. His nose was severely crooked, likely from a lifetime of fighting.

The man sighed. “Seven hells. Fine. Aye, I’ll escort you to Winterfell, but you’ll pay me five of those dragons now, as a deposit.”

Austin nodded before reaching into the small purse that Lord Leo Ashford had given him, producing five of the small gold coins. He walked his horse up next to the sellsword, holding out the coins. The man took them and hid them away in a pouch on his saddlebags before turning back to Austin. 

“So, why would Lord Stark pay so much for two little whelps like you?” he asked.

Austin chuckled. “I can’t say. My name’s Austin, and this is Edric. You are?” he asked as he held out his hand.

The sellsword smirked at Austin’s attempt of a handshake. “Bronn. The name’s Bronn,” he said, taking Austin’s hand and giving it a firm shake.

* * *

“Lord Stark!”

Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the north, tore his attention away from his toddler of a son, Robb, to see Maester Luwin approaching him, holding a raven’s scroll in his hand. “What is it?” asked the Northern lord in his deep, brooding voice.

“A raven, from Dorne. Gerold Dayne has betrayed his own family and claimed Starfall. Lady Ashara was among the casualties,” detailed the maester, handing Lord Stark the letter.

Lord Stark’s eyes fell at that, allowing a small moment of silence for the sister of the man who’d died protecting Lyanna. Ripping his gaze away from the letter and back to the maester was the thought of the two young Dayne lords.

“And the boys? Edric and Austin? This says nothing of them.”

Luwin shook his head apologetically. “They cannot be found, my lord.”

Lord Stark nodded. “I suppose that is either a blessing or a curse.”

* * *

Austin’s ass hurt. He was saddle sore, as he’d been for the past few weeks. Judging from Edric’s demeanor, he was as well. Bronn had taken up position at the head of the party, as he undoubtedly knew Westeros far better than Austin did.

“So, Bronn, how long have you been fighting?” Austin inquired.

The sellsword snorted. “Since I was five. You have to fight to survive, especially in fleabottom. Killed my first man before I was twelve, been selling my sword ever since. Fought at the Trident for one of the Reach lords, forget which. I stole a horse and left when the King killed the Prince, though.”

Austin stared in awe at this man. He was little over the age of twenty, and yet he’d already fought in a war, and emerged alive. “Would you spar with me?” the young Dayne asked.

Bronn grinned. “For an extra dragon, yes.”

Austin smiled in joy, tossing Bronn another coin. The sellsword plucked it out of the air and quickly pocketed it. “So where are the two of you from, eh?”

Austin paused. He wasn’t sure he could trust this sellsword with that information. “Dorne,” he answered finally. “The Red Mountains.”

Bronn nodded. “And why in seven hells would two Dornish boys from the Red Mountains need to get to Winterfell?”

Austin didn’t have an answer to that other than the truth. He also wasn’t smart enough to come up with a lie.  _ Ah, I might as well tell him, he’ll probably piece it together anyways, _ he thought.

“Alright, look, I’ll tell you, but how do I know you won’t betray us if I do?” Austin asked.

Bronn chuckled. “You don’t.”

Austin sighed. “Edric and I are the last members of House Dayne, other than my treacherous uncle. He stole our home, so we fled before he could kill us. Edric is the rightful lord, and I’m his cousin. We need to get to Winterfell so Lord Stark can protect us.”

Bronn whistled, eyes wide. “Now that’s something. In any case, it’s too fuckin’ hot in Dorne to turn around. Don’t worry, I won’t betray you. As long as I get paid at the end of this.”

Austin sighed in relief. “How far to Bitterbridge?”

“We’re already here,” replied Bronn as they crested a hill. Below them sat a large castle, with a small surrounding village nestled on the bank of the river Mander. A well-traveled road passed through the village before crossing the river via a large, stone bridge, which the castle took its name from. The fields surrounding the castle were green and rich with livestock and crops. This was the Reach, after all.

“It’s so green,” commented Edric, who’d never left Dorne in his life. 

Bronn nodded. “Aye, it’s green. Seems every land has a different color to it. Dorne is red with sand, and the North is just gray.”

“So what now?” Austin asked.

“Well, we rest here for the night, as it’s getting dark soon, then we continue along the Roseroad until we get to the Kingsroad,” Bronn replied. “Come on.”

The sellsword spurred his horse forward, headed down the gradual incline. Austin looked at Edric and shrugged before following.

* * *

“Where’s Bronn?” Edric said from his seat on the bed.

Austin shrugged. “He said something about spending his gold on entertainment because he was going to need some for the next month with us.”

Edric nodded and lay down on the bed. The young lord was clearly exhausted. Neither of the Daynes had slept much lately, especially Austin. He waited for Bronn to return, the young sellsword smelling of wine, before allowing himself to fall asleep.

Austin woke several hours later, at relatively first light. Edric was still asleep, and Bronn was passed out drunk on the floor. Austin slowly removed himself from the bed he and his cousin shared to make his way into the main portion of the inn they were staying at. Placing one gold dragon on the counter, he asked the innkeep for enough food for three. He took the breakfast, an assortment of bacon, bread, and cheese back to the room for Edric and Bronn. 

The two of them slowly woke up, their noses smelling food. The three ate in silence, scarfing down every morsel eagerly. Bronn finished first, and rose to buckle on his sword belt before heading outside to saddle the horses. Austin waited for Edric to fully dress before following the sellsword.

The sun was barely visible over the tops of the trees, yet almost the entire village was alive with activity, looking to get an early start on their everyday tasks. Austin ignored them, however, and set off towards the stables behind Bronn. The sellsword had already saddled two of the horses, and was working on the third when the two lords of House Dayne arrived. 

“Saddle up, fancy lads. We’ve got a rough stretch of road ahead of us. Best to get a nice head start,” Bronn implored, lifting Edric onto the smallest of the horses.

Austin chuckled. “You know, you’re unusually nice for a sellsword.”

Bronn turned to look at him. His eyes were cold and caged off, hiding his emotions. “Only to children,” he stated ominously. 


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GAME OF THRONES OR ANY ASSOCIATED CHARACTERS**

**Chapter 3**

Austin awoke with a start when a foot impacted with his hip. He quickly rolled and jumped to his feet, only to find Bronn holding two wooden staves. 

Austin held his hands out wide. “What? I can’t sleep?”

Bronn smirked. “I thought you wanted me to spar with you.”

Austin sighed. “I do.”

Bronn tossed him one of the staves. “Then follow me and stop complaining, fancy lad.”

Austin followed Bronn several dozen yards into the woods, emerging into a small clearing with a stream running through it. Almost immediately, Bronn whirled around and brought down an overhead swing which Austin had to hastily block. Given his young age, his body was not strong enough to block such a blow, so Bronn’s stave ended up crushing straight through Austin’s block before hitting the young lord square in the head with a thunk.

Austin’s hands immediately went to the spot on his head, a knot already forming. “What was that for?” he demanded.

Bronn shrugged. “Not my fault you can’t block.”

Austin rubbed his head for a few moments before taking up his ready stance once again. This time, he didn’t wait for Bronn to make the first move. Austin swung his stave with all his might in a horizontal strike, but Bronn quite literally yawned and batted aside the young Dayne’s attack.

“You’ll have to do better than that, fancy lad,” Bronn chuckled.

* * *

_ Two Weeks Earlier _

Lord Eddard Stark rubbed his eyes, trying in vain to wipe away the burn of exhaustion. He’d been poring over various raven messages from his scouts. He’d sent over a dozen men to scour the countryside in search of the missing Dayne boys. It’d been over a month since Starfall fell, and still no word. The Warden of the North was doing everything in his power aside from riding out himself to find the boys, but to no avail.

Lord Stark saw this as his opportunity. The opportunity he’d been waiting for, to repay Ser Arthur Dayne for his less than honorable death at the hands of Howland Reed and Eddard Stark. Regretfully, the legendary knight was slain from a backstab just as he was about to give the final blow to Lord Stark. 

“My lord,” called Maester Luwin as he entered the room, carrying yet another scroll. The old man’s quickened pace, however, alluded to the nature of the news.

Eddard took the letter. It was from Lord Leo Ashford. When he’d finished reading, his eyes shot up towards Luwin. “How long ago was this?”

“Three days, my lord,” answered the old maester.

Eddard practically vaulted over the table on his way to the stables.

* * *

“I hope you’re a fast learner, because you didn’t hit me once,” boasted Bronn.

Austin rolled his eyes. “It’s not exactly a fair fight, now is it? I’m eleven, and you’ve been in war already.”

Bronn nodded. “Aye, that’ll make for a mismatch.”

As Austin sat down on his bedroll to pull out some dried meat for breakfast, Edric stirred. This was probably the longest the young lad had slept in several weeks.

“How long have we been on the road Bronn?” Austin asked.

Bronn seemed to think for a second. “Maybe...two weeks?”

“And where are we now?” Edric asked.

Bronn chuckled. “So many questions. We passed Antlers three days ago, so we should cross the Trident sometime today.”

Austin sighed. He wanted nothing more than a soft, feather bed that he could use to relax. But alas, he was a lord, yet he was barred from such comforts. Looking down, Austin saw his once pristine white tunic was caked with mud and grime so it looked like any other peasants’ wear.

“I need a bath,” he commented.

Bronn shook his head. “Seems like you’re not cut out for this sort of life, little lord.”

Edric snorted. “I’m supposed to be the lord of a castle, not some street urchin.”

Austin placed his head in his hands. Amidst all of their travels, he hadn’t had much time to reflect on all that had happened recently. A single tear ran down his cheek before he wiped it away and steeled himself. He had to be strong for Edric, he couldn’t afford to show weakness.

Bronn chewed the last of his bread before rising to untie his horse and began to saddle it. Austin did the same, letting Bronn do Edric’s, since the lad was still too small to do it himself. Austin had grown tall in his short life. He was a little over five feet tall at only the age eleven. Bronn stood a little over six feet. Austin still knew that these heights were nothing compared to the great lords of Westeros. He’d heard tales of a lord from the Westerlands that stood eight feet tall. Compared to him, Austin was but an insect.

“Come on, if we’re lucky, we can make it to the Crossroads Inn before dark,” Bronn said, mounting his horse.

Austin hopped up onto his and followed the sellsword down the winding path through the woods.

* * *

Austin’s first signal that they were near the Trident was the fact that all the trees had virtually disappeared. They rode onto a barren field that gradually sloped down towards the running water ahead. This crossing was a major trade highway, as the only other crossing was at the Twins. It was here, just two years ago, that King Robert had slain Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, signalling the end of the war. The combined might of the Reach, Dorne, and the Crown had all been bested that day by the North, the Stormlands, and the Vale. It is said that you can still come here and find rubies in the shallow water, fragments of Rhaegar’s once elegant armor.

While Austin marvelled at the sight of such a large river crossing, Edric was half asleep in his saddle, and Bronn was scanning their surroundings. Austin chanced a look back at the forest they’d ridden out of, and was alarmed when he saw men on horseback emerging from it, carrying banners with the sigil of House Dayne, a falling star crossed by a white sword on a purple field.

“Bronn!” Austin warned.

Bronn’s head whipped around. “Who are they?”

“My cousin’s men! Sent here to capture us, I’d guess,” Austin explained. 

“Well maybe I can talk them down,” the young sellsword reasoned.

“Not likely,” Austin said as one of the men pointed and shouted. There were maybe a dozen in total, and they spurred their horses into a gallop once they saw the three riders. 

“Run!” shouted Bronn. Austin made sure Edric sent his horse into a gallop before he followed along, Bronn bringing up the rear. Austin’s horse was in full gallop, yet when he looked behind, he was dismayed to see that their pursuers were gaining ground ever so slightly. They were maybe fifty yards from Austin as their horses’ feet hit the shallow water of the Trident. Austin urged his horse on, willing it to go faster, and it didn’t take long for the animal to reach the other side.

Edric took off again, and Austin heard the rasp of metal as Bronn drew his sword, preparing for a fight. The three of them galloped onward, coming to a small road and making a right turn. 

“There’s the inn!” Bronn shouted.

Up ahead, a large tavern was clearly visible, jutting out from the surrounding trees. It was a simple, yet clearly popular stone inn, with almost a small village clustered around it. The three were hauling ass towards it when arrows suddenly started whizzing past Austin’s head. He ducked low to the saddle, practically laying across his horse’s back, yelling at Edric to do the same. As soon as they’d entered the village, Austin told Edric to take a hard right, ducking into an alley between two buildings. Bronn followed, and they proceeded towards what looked like the main road of the village.

Unfortunately, their pursuers followed, not letting them get away so easily. Austin was becoming increasingly more angry.  _ These guys don’t give up easy, do they? _ he asked himself.

Bronn must have been thinking the same thing, because he suddenly skid to a stop before turning his horse around to face the warriors charging at them. Austin stopped as well, turning to look at Bronn.

The young sellsword nodded to Austin. “You’re a good lad, go live your life,” he told Austin before he charged towards the men of House Dayne.

“No!” yelled Austin. As if on queue, as soon as he’d uttered that word, several horseman shot past him, seeming to follow Bronn. They were in boiled brown leather armor and had steel sallets atop their heads. Slung over their shoulders were several steel-coated shields with direwolves engraved on them. They all drew their swords and began to aid Bronn in cutting down the enemy Daynes.

Austin marveled at the sight. These men were battle-hardened warriors, not losing a single man, easily cutting down the Dornish men of House Dayne. Glancing at Edric, Austin noticed that he too was enamored at the wolf soldiers. The small skirmish was over just as quickly as it had begun, with the only surviving Dayne man galloping off on his Dornish stallion. No doubt he’d take the word of their failure back to his cousin Gerold.

As Bronn and the soldiers trotted back to Austin and Edric, Austin saw a face he’d not seen since it brought news of his father’s death. Lord Eddard Stark. Austin was suddenly filled with a flood of opposing emotions. He didn’t know whether to feel anger or relief, whether to clamor for revenge, or thank his rescuer. He settle for the two latters.

“Lord Stark! I thank you. Without you and your men, we would surely be captives by now, and my friend Bronn here would be mincemeat,” Austin said, half bowing in his saddle, Edric doing the same.

Eddard gave a small smile. “No, my boy. I thank the gods that I’ve found you. Ever since we heard of the fate of Starfall, we’ve been eager for news of the two of you.”

“How did you find us?”

“We received a raven from Lord Leo Ashford with details of your whereabouts. I figured that if you continued on your due course, you’d end up on the Kingsroad. Me and my men have been riding hard South for two weeks,” Lord Stark explained.

Austin nodded to each of Lord Eddard’s ten men, a silent thanks. Each man had the look of a true warrior. And how could they not? They were but two years removed from a massive rebellion. 

“Ser Rodrik!” Lord Stark called.

One of the Stark men answered. He was nearing the latter stages of his life, with wisps of gray appearing in his beard and hair. “My lord.”

“See to it that the Daynes and Bronn here are well fed and washed. They are no doubt exhausted from their long journey,” Lord Stark commanded.

Austin nodded thanks to Lord Stark before following Ser Rodrik towards the inn. Bronn halted next to the Stark Lord. “My lord, if I may, I’m only escorting these lads for the reward, so I believe I’m owed for getting them this far.”

Lord Stark seemed to be half amused until he realized the sellsword was serious. “You will be paid fairly once we return to Winterfell,” he sighed.

Bronn nodded acceptance before resuming his course towards the inn behind the two young Daynes.

“Sellswords,” Lord Stark muttered, shaking his head, earning a few laughs from his men.

* * *

Austin had never felt something so amazing in his entire life. The hot bath he was taking was a big step up from the ice cold ones he’d been taking in the rivers the past month and a half. He soaked until the water cooled off before clambering out, drying off before donning the new tunic that Lord Stark provided from the village. Austin slipped on a new pair of boots as well before walking into the main hall of the inn. In one corner, Lord Stark’s men were having a great time, apparently Bronn was teaching them a Braavosi knife game. In the opposite corner sat Lord Stark with Ser Rodrik, who Austin learned was the Master-at-Arms for Winterfell. Austin sat down at the table with the two men, eagerly digging into the food present at invitation from Lord Stark.

“So, Austin, what happened exactly? With Starfall, I mean. Tell me everything,” Lord Stark asked.

Austin paused for a second, all the memories flooding back, but he shook his head to clear it. “It was just an ordinary day like any other. I was in the Palestone Sword, contemplating my father,” Lord Stark looked visibly guilty at that, “when suddenly the alarm bells rang. On the horizon were hundreds, maybe thousands of men belonging to my cousin Gerold. He’d likely enlisted help from the Yronwoods. Needless to say, the castle would not be able to hold against such a force with no warning. So my aunt Ashara tasked me with the protection of Edric the Lord of Starfall. The two of us waited for the assault to begin before riding out of a postern gate. The last thing I saw was my aunt…” Austin faltered at the memory of his aunt’s plummet from the Palestone Sword.

He became aware of a large, warm hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright,” Lord Stark said, attempting comfort.

Austin nodded, wiping away the tears before continuing. “I led us North at Ashara’s behest, seeking you out, Lord Stark. We made it to Ashford, and posed as beggars, earning a considerable purse from Lord Leo, though now I suspect that he knew it was us all along. On that purse, we bought food for a month, with enough left over for a downpayment on Bronn’s services. That was near Bitterbridge. We’ve been on the Kingsroad ever since.”

Lord Stark nodded along, intently listening to every detail of Austin’s story before sitting back at the end of it. “Well, our first priority should be your safety. Especially Edric’s, as he is the Lord of Starfall. You will accompany me back to Winterfell, where you will remain for the foreseeable future, at least until I can find a way to involve King Robert in the liberation of your home.”

Austin nodded. “Thank you, Lord Stark.”

The Wolf Lord shook his head and smiled. “No, Austin. It is the least I can do, no thanks are required.”

The rest of the day passed like molasses in wintertime as Austin rested and conversed with Lord Stark. There was still one question that he had left to ask: how his father died.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Austin’s first thought was of how massive the castle of Winterfell was. Starfall is an impressive castle, but Winterfell put it to shame. The ancient seat of the Kings of Winter, the massive stone walls and high towers were said to be imbued with magic. The only castle Austin had been to that was this big was Harrenhal, but that was just a pile of melted stone. Winterfell stood proud in all its glory.

The surrounding countryside was devoid of trees for several miles, offering a great sightline from Winterfell, preventing a surprise attack like the one that occurred at Starfall. The village that sat at the base of the walls of the massive castle was Wintertown. The small town was clearly alive with activity, and some had even gathered to welcome their Lord Stark back home. What the common folk did not expect was two little lords to be returning with him.

As Edric and Austin trotted along behind Lord Stark, the imposing castle grew even larger if that was possible. By the time they reached the gates and came into the courtyard, Austin was convinced that it had been built by giants.

Dismounting his horse, Austin was surprised to see such a large welcoming party. There was a thin redhead, carrying a toddler in her arms while an old woman held another.  _ Lady Catelyn! _ Austin realized.

He gave a small bow. “Lady Catelyn, on behalf of both myself and my cousin Edric, we would like to thank you for so graciously welcoming us into your home.”

The Lady of Winterfell curtsied in return and gave a warm smile. “It is our pleasure, my lords. Now come, you must be cold. I still haven’t gotten used to the North myself. I can’t even imagine what this must feel like after growing up in Dorne.”

Austin chuckled. “It has been rather trying, my Lady,” he said, gesturing to the layers of fur covering his body. Lord Eddard had supplied them just before they reached Moat Cailin.

Austin steered young Edric along, following the Stark matriarch into the main hall, where several platters of food were being set on the long, wooden table. Austin eagerly sat down and dug into the hot food, allowing it to seep into his bones and remove the cld that had been present for the past few weeks.

He was concentrating on savoring the delicious meat when he was brought out of his thoughts by the noise of the toddler. “Papa!” it squealed.

Austin attempted to bite back his laughter. “And who might this be?” he asked.

Lady Catelyn smiled. “This is my son Robb. My firstborn. Hopefully more will follow,” she said, laying a hand on her belly.

Austin nodded. “I pray for happy, healthy children, my Lady.”

“As do I,” she replied.

Austin spent the rest of the meal in silence, grateful for the Stark hospitality before excusing himself from the hall. He made his way back out into the courtyard, where he spotted Lord Stark in deep conversation with Ser Rodrik.

As Austin approached, he could make out small snippets of their speech. 

“I can’t ride down and besiege the castle myself, he’s a Dornish vassal, it would be an act of war…”

“My Lord, the King might could help the situation.”

“Not likely, Dorne is only apart of the Seven Kingdoms in name. It is truly its own country…”

All conversation ceased as the two became aware of Austin’s presence. “What is it, Austin?”

“I was wondering if I might trouble Ser Rodrik for some training,” the young Dayne hinted.

Lord Eddard smirked before turning back to Ser Rodrik and jerking his head. The veteran warrior nodded. Lord Stark gave Austin a pat on the shoulder before taking himself into the hall.

“Now!” Austin’s head snapped back to Ser Rodrik, who was now holding two sparring swords. “Defend yourself!” 

The Northern knight tossed the blunt sword towards Austin, who attempted to catch it, but it bounced off of his knuckles and buried itself in the mud. Ser Rodrik sighed. 

“Tomorrow, you will catch it.”

* * *

Austin slowly opened his eyes to study his surroundings. He’d woken up in a massive feather bed with several pounds of fur put on top for warmth. Austin removed himself out from under them and sat up. Rubbing his eyes, he guessed it must be mid morning, judging from the sounds coming from the courtyard below the open window.

Slowly, the son of Arthur Dayne rose to dress for the day. Sometime in the night, a change of clothes had been brought to him, and laid across the foot of the bed. Austin changed into the northern clothes, feeling strangely at home in them, as if he were meant to wear them. It was a simple, thick leather tunic under a cloak with ur on the shoulders, accompanied by leather boots and gloves.

_ So I’m an honorary Stark…, _ Austin joked to himself.

Stepping out of the massive room, he made his was alone the stone corridors, descending the winding flights of stairs before exiting into the courtyard. His muscles were still sore from his sparring session with Ser Rodrik.

Unlike the Master-at-Arms in Starfall, Ser Rodrik was not lenient. He did not care whether you were highborn or a commoner from Fleabottom, he was going to train you. Austin was grateful for this, however, as it would be the only way to develop his sword skills effectively. The Starks were regarded as fine warriors, and Austin could see why.

Out of the corner of Austin’s eye, he saw a young warrior tie a brown corded bag to his horse’s saddle before mounting up. “Bronn!” Austin called.

The sellsword’s head turned to see the approaching Dayne. “Well, you were right, fancy lad. Lord Stark paid me, so now I’m off to the next job.”

“Just like that?” Austin asked, bewildered.

Bronn nodded. “Aye, just like that. I’m a sellsword, kid. I sell my sword, I don’t loan it out to everyone that needs help.”

Austin nodded. Truth be told, he rather enjoyed the sellsword’s humorous, carefree demeanor. Oddly enough, he was going to miss him. 

“See ya ‘round, kid,” Bronn said before clicking his heels and trotting out the gate, never looking back. 

Austin nodded, to himself now, more than Bronn. “Aye, you’ll see me again. I’m sure of it.”

* * *

_ 289 AC _

_ Four Years Later _

It was a normal day like any other for the seventeen year old Austin Dayne. Wake up, dress in heavy clothes to combat the summer snows, eat breakfast, train in the yard. He was currently on the last activity, sparring sword in hand, staring down his opponent, the twenty year old Jory Cassel. The son of Rodrik, Jory had recently been admitted into Lord Stark’s personal guard, under the current captain, Ser Torrhen Snow. 

Austin dashed forward once again, ignoring the screaming exhaustion from his limbs. He brought his blade in a wide sweep at Jory’s feet before reversing the momentum to aim at the young Cassel’s neck. Jory brought his blade up just in time for the clang of metal to ring out across the courtyard. Austin did not hide that he was impressed with the young guard’s speed. Not many of Lord Stark’s guards could hope to last as long as Jory had. It seems that some of the skill of Ser Arthur Dayne had passed down to his only son.

At six and a half feet tall, Austin towered over the smaller Jory, who stood just under six feet. That was working in Austin’s favor, as he had both the reach advantage, as well as the strength advantage. Not to mention that he was simply more skilled than Jory. Despite the gap in skill, the two of them had grown to be steadfast friends during the Dayne’s stay at Winterfell. Austin sparred with Jory more than any other man in the castle. There was only one person that Austin enjoyed sparring with more than Jory, and that was Lord Stark himself. The veteran Lord always challenged Austin to his limits, as the young Dayne, despite all of his natural skill and talent, was still fairly inexperienced.

Austin let his blade down, plunging the point into the ground before sitting on one of the benches to rest. He wiped the sheen of cold sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve as Jory sat down next to him.

“Well fought,” Austin acknowledged.

Jory chuckled. “You getting old? You seemed a bit slower today.”

Austin shook his head. “I don’t know what it is, but I feel distracted today. In the back of my mind, there’s a sense of impending danger, though it could just be my dreams.”

As if on queue, as soon as Austin had finished his sentence, a guardsman rode into the castle. The northman didn’t even wait for his horse to come to a complete stop before he vaulted off of it and rushed into the main hall of Winterfell.

Jory looked Austin dead in the eye. “I don’t think it was your dreams.”

Austin agreed, and the two young warriors quickly rose to follow the man into the hall. Ser Rodrik was already present, along with Lord Stark, Lady Catelyn, and Maester Luwin. It seemed that Lord Stark was in the middle of trying to calm down the ranting guardsman.

“Slow down, gather yourself,” the Lord of Winterfell said with a raised hand. He waited for a few seconds as the man took a few deep breaths before continuing. “Now, say again.”

“My Lord, the Greyjoys have risen up against the crown. They’ve burnt the Lannister fleet at Lannisport, and have besieged Seagard, though Lord Mallister is confident he can repel the ironborn.”

Lord Stark nodded along, his signature look of grave seriousness always present on his face. “What else?”

“My Lord, King Robert is calling all of his banners to crush the rebellion once and for all.”

* * *

“No, for the last time, no,” Lord Stark declared. “I refuse to allow you to participate in this war.”

Austin wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Lord Stark, I mean no offense, but I am a Lord in my own right. I do not need your permission to do anything. Granted, I am a guest in your home, but I am not your son.”

Eddard was silenced for a few moments. “Very well. You may accompany me as a member of my household guard. Meaning you will not stray from my side during the battles to follow.”

Austin did not attempt to hide his joy. A wide grin spread across his face. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. A chance to prove himself worthy of his father. Only time will tell if Austin has the makings of a swordsman such as Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.

The seventeen year old Lord Dayne bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I agree to your terms, Lord Stark.”

The Stark patriarch simply smirked before turning on his heel to attend his other matters. Austin turned the opposite way before practically sprinting to Edric’s room. He found the young Lord of Starfall packing his bags. “What are you doing?” Austin asked, a bit confused at his cousin’s actions.

“I’m going to fight, what do you think?” Edric retorted, as if that was obvious.

Austin shook his head. “Absolutely not,” he disagreed. 

Edric looked up at him with determined eyes. “And why not, exactly?”

“Because you’re twelve, and you’re the future of our house. Who’s the rightful lord after you?”

“You are,” Edric clarified.

Austin shook his head once more. “You know I don’t want it. Governing a castle isn’t my destiny. I’m a fighter, Edric. It’s in my blood. Aye, you are skilled for your age, but you’ve been groomed by Lord Stark to rule over your subjects, not run off to fight in wars you don’t need to fight.”

Edric’s head dropped at that. He knew his older cousin was right, he just hated feeling left out all the time. Austin reached down and placed a comforting hand on Edric’s shoulder. 

“Hey. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it,” he assured.

Edric nodded. “Alright, but I’m for sure going in the next war. I’ll be old enough then.”

Austin chuckled before lazily nodding his assent as he gave his cousin a parting hug.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Anxious. That’s all Austin felt as he mounted his destrier. Sword on his belt, armor on, cloak around his shoulders. He was ready for battle. 

_ I wish my father could see me now, _ he thought.

The courtyard was alive with activity as the men of Winterfell made preparations to leave. Lord Stark himself had yet to emerge from the castle, but Austin made his way to Jory, who’d just mounted as well.

“Here we go, my friend. Our first war,” Austin said.

Jory nodded. “Aye, hopefully we’ll live to see the end of it.”

There was some truth to Jory’s words, for the Ironborn were fierce fighters. They weren’t particularly organized or strategic, but they made up for it in their savagery and skill. 

Austin turned his head when he heard the hall doors open, and a stern-looking Lord Stark emerged. Austin turned his horse and walked up to the Lord of Winterfell as he mounted. 

“Where do we ride, Lord Stark?” Austin asked.

“We ride for the Westerlands coast. The Mallisters have thrown back the Ironborn attacking Seagard, so our path is clear. We rendezvous with King Robert at the Harrenhal and invade the Iron Islands,” Lord Stark answered. His hard, cold, calculating eyes looked as though they had wheel behind them, turning his thoughts over and over in his head. 

The honorable Warden of the North was not eager to go into another of Robert Baratheon’s wars, yet he must do his duty as a sworn vassal of the Crown. Austin nodded his head in understanding and resumed his place next to his friend Jory. 

“Men of the North! On me!” called Lord Stark as he trotted out of the castle gates. 

* * *

King Robert I Baratheon was excited to say the least. It’d been six years since he’d been in a battle. Six long years of nothing but council meetings and ass-licking. Give Robert a warhammer and a foe any day over all of the political nonsense. War was Robert’s element, and he’d been out of it for too long.

“Your Grace, we’ve just received word that Lord Stark is on his way South from Winterfell. Reports say he will arrive at Harrenhal in less than a month,” Lord Varys, the Master of Whispers on the Small Council, informed.

“Good,” boomed Robert. His signature deep voice was that of a battlefield commander. It was a voice that inspired his men to carry him to victory in many battles during Robert’s Rebellion, as they were calling it. “Finally, a proper scrap. Varys, send word to ready the men. We march for Harrenhal.”

“At once, Your Grace,” the Spider bowed and hurried from the room.

Robert stood from his seat on the Iron Throne and walked towards the window, peering out over the vast expanse of King’s Landing. War brought more people into the cities because they believed it was safer inside walls. That was true, in part, though the crowds tended to become hostile, keeping the City Watch busy at all times.

“So that’s it, then? You’re off to war again?” asked a voice from behind Robert. Turning, he saw the elderly form of Jon Arryn, his Hand of the King, and the Warden of the East. 

“Aye, that’s it, Jon. You know how much I crave war. I leave you to govern the realm while I go kill those ironborn sons of whores,” Robert stated proudly.

Jon Arryn shook his head with an amused smirk. “I don’t suppose I could talk you out of it?”

“Have you ever been able to?” Robert laughed.

Jon rested his case. It was clear he was getting nowhere fast. He gave a small bow to the King. “As you wish, Your Grace. I will rule the Kingdoms to the best of my ability until your return.”

“You rule them anyways,” Robert stated plainly.

“I suppose that’s true enough,” chuckled the Lord of the Vale.

* * *

Austin hadn’t travelled this far in years. Not since his long trek from Starfall to Winterfell. Speaking of which, he wondered how Bronn was doing. The sellsword hadn’t been seen since the day he left with a saddlebag full of gold. 

_ I wonder if he’s fighting in the war, _ Austin thought.

“Austin,” Jory called.

The young Dayne turned to see what Jory was pointing at. The Crossroads Inn. The place where Lord Stark had saved his life. It brought back massive feelings of nostalgia in Austin. Memories flashed before his eyes of Stark cavalrymen riding past, straight into the men of High Hermitage. 

“Never thought I’d be back here,” Austin admitted.

Jory shrugged. “Got to move on. What’s done is done, no sense in worrying over it all over again.”

Austin turned to look at the young warrior in surprise. “When did you get so wise?” he laughed.

Jory just grinned as they dismounted. Evidently, Lord Stark had decided that they would rest here for the night. Austin tied his horse to a nearby post with Jory’s before turning back to his friend. “Come on, I want to do some sparring before bed.”

* * *

Austin awoke to the sounds of many boots hitting the ground outside. Quickly rising from his bed, he donned his armor and cloak. His armor was unique only to him. Lord Stark had it made especially to fit Austin. It was a simple steel breastplate in the pattern not dissimilar to the Knights of the Vale, but it had the sigil of House Dayne in the center of the chest. Additionally, there were two boiled black leather faulds that hung down on either side, protecting his hips and thighs. His cloak was fashioned after the sStark cloaks, a simple long, black cloak with grey wolf fur on the shoulders, giving the illusion that Austin’s shoulder-length white hair was longer than it was. Austin rounded it out with thick black leather boots and gloves.

Austin preferred to mov e around and be mobile, so he was not nearly as weighed down as the other lords. It was all a matter of preference. Austin relied on speed and agility when swordfighting as opposed to raw power like Greatjon Umber, for example. There was a beast of a man, there. Austin had only met the man once, but the seven foot frame of the Umber lord dwarfed everyone in the same room as him. 

As such, Austin had simple long, thick, leather sleeves with small steel epaulettes that only reached halfway down his upper arm. He stepped out of his room at the inn to see the camp abuzz with activity. All the Northmen were reforming to resume the march. If all went well, they would arrive at Harrenhal just before the sun set. 

Austin made his way towards his horse, finding Jory Cassel already there. The young man was still in his signature brown boiled leather of the Northmen. It was a cheap, yet extremely effective form of armor. And there was no shortage of animal skins with which to make it in the North.

“You’re looking rested,” Jory acknowledged.

Austin nodded. “Aye, my bed was soft. You?”

Jory smirked. “I had a tent.”

Austin bit back a laugh. Sometimes he forgot that everyone didn’t have the same luxuries as he did. “If all goes well, Lord Stark says we should arrive at Harrenhal by sundown,” Jory stated.

Austin nodded, adjusting his belt so his sword would be more comfortable before mounting up. Jory did the same, and together, the two rode towards the head of the forming column of Northmen.

As they neared, they saw the army commanders, Lord Stark chief amongst them, all gathered in a semicircle, listening to their liege lord’s orders. Most all of the great Northern houses were present. 

The Umbers, led by Lord Greatjon. The Mormonts, led by Lord Jorah. The Dustins, led by Lady Barbrey. The Karstarks, led by Lord Rickard. The Manderlys, led by Lord Wyman. The Glovers, led by Lord Galbart and his brother Robett. The Boltons, led by Lord Roose. House Flint, led by Lady Lyessa and Lord Robin. The crannogmen, led by Lord Howland. The Cerwyns, led by Lord Medger. House Tallhart, led by Ser Helman. And House Hornwood, led by Lord Halys. Not to mention the several dozen minor houses that served as vassals to the major houses, as well as the northern mountain clans such as the Norreys. 

As Austin and Jory approached, they heard the tail end of what sounded like Lord Eddard’s plans for the day. “...we get to Harrenhal, we take one day of rest to merge our forces with the King’s before we march for the coast, where Lord Stannis Baratheon is to meet us.”

“How are we to get to the Iron Islands? The Ironborn control the seas,” Lord Jorah spoke up.

Lord Stark shook his head. “No, there was a rider in the night. Lord Stannis has smashed the Iron Fleet with the help of Lord Paxter Redwyne and his ships from the Arbor in the Straights of Fair Isle. We have naval superiority.”

“Great news then! We get to shove our swords up some Greyjoy dungholes after all!” exclaimed Greatjon Umber, eliciting several laughs from the gathered lords, including Austin. He was with the Greatjon on this one, he did indeed want to shove his sword up some Greyjoy ass.

“There will be enough killing to go around, I’m afraid,” Lord Stark said solemnly. Clearly, he did not wish to be dragged into another one of Robert’s wars, but alas, it was his duty. “We will make solid battle plans once we join forces with King Robert. Ready your men for the day’s march. Dismissed.”

* * *

Harrenhal was just as impressive as it was when Austin saw it at the Great Tourney when he was but a child. Its magnificence was diminished, however, due to its melted stone walls and general run-down nature. It was brightened by the men of the Stormlands under King robert, who had been waiting here for upwards of a week. No doubt His Grace had been drinking and whoring for that past week to pass the time.

As Austin rode through the destroyed gates of Harrenhal along with the lords of the major houses, he noticed a great brute of a man, about half of a foot shorter than the Greatjon emerge from the castle. He had a thick beard, and was showing the beginnings of a belly. Austin knew this to be King Robert Baratheon, though they’d never met before.

Lord Stark quickly dismounted and embraced his childhood friend, the two of them already laughing about some inside joke. Austin smirked and dismounted with the other lords. Lord Eddard had only brought his select war council of the most powerful lords of the North. Austin followed them into the castle, where several lords of the Stormlands were already seated around a large table. Lord Stark took the seat closest to King Robert, and the rest went down the line in the order that follows: Greatjon Umber, Rickard Karstark, Roose Bolton, Galbart Glover, Wyman Manderly, and Jorah Mormont. Austin stood off to the side, leaning against one of the walls. He’d feel out of place seated amongst such powerful lords. 

“Now that you’re all here, we can finally draw up some real battle plans,” Robert declared in a deep, booming voice the likes of which Austin had never heard before.

_ No wonder men talk about him as if he’s a god. They must hear everything he says on the battlefield, _ Austin thought. Suddenly, the doors on the opposite side of the room opened as seven gold-clad knights entered the room. Austin knew they were the Kingsguard, and he knew all of their names. However, all but two of the faces were unknown to him.

Austin instantly recognized Ser Barristan Selmy, for he was by far the oldest and most experienced man in the room. Unlike Austin, Ser Barristan had white hair from old age, not natural.

The other knight that Austin recognized was Ser Jaime Lannister. He was the youngest member of the Kingsguard in history, and his skill with a blade was renowned. Austin found himself wondering who would win between the two members of the Kingsguard.  _ Would it be the experience of Ser Barristan, or the raw skill of Ser Jaime? _

The rest of the Kingsguard were not noteworthy. Normally, one was appointed to the Kingsguard as a reward for extreme distinguished military service or renown of skill, but the rest of King Robert’s Kingsguard seemed to just be concessions to other noble houses. Robert had played the politics game with his own personal bodyguard.

Ser Mandon Moore, Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Arys Oakheart, Ser Boros Blount, and Ser Preston Greenfield. Hardly the stuff of legend.

Despite their apparent lack of skill compared to the Kingsguards of old, they filed into the room to stand behind Robert, while Ser Barristan took the empty seat to Robert’s left, opposite from Lord Stark.

“Now, it begins. We are going to mount a full scale invasion. We are going to burn and destroy the Ironborn settlements and castles island by island until only Pyke remains. I want to tear down those walls myself and look the Usurper Balon Greyjoy in the eye before I smash his skull in with my hammer,” King Robert stated adamantly, slamming a closed fist down on the oak table for emphasis.

Lord Eddard held up a hand. “There may well be a time for that, but we do not want to dishonor ourselves in the process of putting down this rebellion. What are our official battle plans? Do we have any?”

Ser Barristan nodded. “We do, my lord. Vaguely. King Robert has said he will command the force besieging Pyke himself, and he wishes for you to be at his side.”

“What of the other islands?” asked Lord Stark.

“That has yet to be decided.”

Austin noticed and smirked as the Greatjon got the other lords’ attention. “Your Grace, I volunteer to lead a force. I was thinking of Orkmont.”

Lord Stark nodded in approval as the other lords around the table did the same. “Harlaw has too few castles to be worth a siege. I suggest we avoid it and focus on Great Wyk and Old Wyk,” Ser Barristan advised. 

Robert stroked his beard for several seconds before coming to a decision. “Very well, Ser Barristan, you will lead the invading force of Old Wyk. I will send my brother Stannis to Great Wyk, along with the Westerlands forces. The Stormlands will be with me and the remaining forces of the North under Lord Stark for the Siege of Pyke.”

As all the lords nodded assent, King Robert stood, prompting everyone to rise as well. Austin stood up straight, no longer leaning on the wall. “Eat well, my lords. Tonight, we feast, tomorrow, we march. Council adjourned,” stated the King.

All the lords bowed one by one and filed from the room, leaving Lord Stark, King Robert, and the Kingsguard with Austin. Lord Stark turned to glance at Austin before motioning him over as the King sat back down.

“Seven hells, can we just get to the battle already? I’m tired of all this fucking marching and planning. Just give me a hammer and tell me where the enemy is,” King Robert complained, pouring himself a goblet of wine before doing the same for Lord Eddard.

“Robert, if I may, this is the young Dayne lad I’ve told you of,” Lord Stark introduced. 

Austin bowed. “Austin Dayne, Your Grace.”

“Right, the son of Ser Arthur. If you’re half the swordsman your father was, any man in the Seven Kingdoms should fear you. Tell me, have you killed?”

Austin slowly shook his head. “No, Your Grace.”

King Robert glanced at Ned with an amused look in his eye. “Your first war, eh? Well I’m afraid you’re in for quite the surprise. There’s a lot more shit on the ground than you’d think there would be. Battles aren’t all glory, boy.”

Austin nodded his understanding, though in actuality he didn’t fully understand what the King was trying to tell him. Austin had noticed that Ser Barristan’s ears perked up at the mention of Ser Arthur. The revelation that Austin was Ser Arthur’s son had clearly shocked the old man.

“You are Ser Arthur Dayne’s son? Truly?” the old knight inquired.

Austin nodded. “I am.”

“He was the finest swordsman I’ve ever seen in my life. Better than me, better than anyone,” Ser Barristan praised.

Lord Stark nodded. “Aye, he would’ve killed me had it not been for Howland Reed.”

Ser Barristan looked oddly at Lord Stark before turning his attention back to Austin. “I should like to spar with you, sometime, lad. See if any of his skill was passed to his son.”

Austin dipped his head in appreciation. “I would be honored, Ser Barristan.”

King Robert ruined the moment with a large, loud belch. “Yes, enough with the bloody pomp. Get out of here and leave me with Ned,” he ordered. 

Austin stood and bowed before quickly exiting the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Austin emerged from the main hall of Harrenhal, descending the flights of stairs easily given his six and a half foot frame and long legs. 

“Ser Barristan was taken with you, I’m sure,” said a gruff voice from Austin’s left.

Turning to look, he saw the form of Lord Jorah Mormont, leaning against the stone wall. He was a relatively tall man, over six feet, and had long blonde hair combed back over his head. He had broad shoulders, displaying the power behind them for all to see. 

Evidently, the Bear Lord had been waiting for him. Austin nodded. “He was. He knew my father well. I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced, my lord. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Lord Jorah nodded in return before rising off of the wall and bidding Austin to walk with him. “I expected he would. After all, they were on the Kingsguard together. I never had the pleasure of meeting your father, but I believed him to be an honorable man.”

Austin nodded his thanks. “I’m saddened to say I never knew the man. Not really, anyways. We met on a few occasions, the last being the tournament at Harrenhal.”

Jorah pursed his lips in thought. “I’m rather the opposite. I grew up with my father, Jeor. He took the Black and left for the Wall so that I could be the Lord of Bear Island. And so I could inherit this,” Jorah said, patting the pommel of the sword at his hip. The pommel had a Bear’s head, and red ruby eyes. 

“Longclaw,” Austin nodded in remembrance.

Jorah looked fairly surprised. “I’m intrigued to know how you knew that.”

Austin shrugged. “I enjoy history. Ever since I came to the North four years ago, I’ve been sneaking off to the library and reading all of Maester Luwin’s books. The history of the North fascinates me more than the histories of any of the other six kingdoms.”

Jorah bowed his head in recognition. “I had no idea that we had a scholar in our midst.”

Austin chuckled. “Warrior-scholar more like.”

Jorah held up one finger. “Ah, speaking of that, would you be interested in a quick sparring match? The Daynes are renowned swordsmen and it would never hurt to sharpen our skills before the upcoming battles.”

“I would be honored, my lord,” Austin agreed, and the two quickly made their way to the training yard. Austin was surprised to see Mikken, the Winterfell blacksmith, hammering away at a red hot piece of steel.

“Mikken!” Austin called.

The blacksmith looked up, seeing the approaching lords, he dipped his steel in a nearby barrel of water before moving to greet them. Mikken was a broad man, years of hammering steel had seen to that. He had shoulder-length gray hair, and the accompanying gray beard. “My lords,” he greeted. 

“What are you doing so far from Winterfell?” Austin pried.

“I traveled with the army, lord. More work to be found repairing damaged weapons then staying at home, tending my small forge,” the older smith enlightened. 

Jorah nodded. “Aye, you’re right about that. Tell me, could we trouble you for a couple of sparring swords? Austin and I don’t want to kill eachother before we see the Greyjoys.”

Mikken gave a small bow. “Of course, my lord.”

The old smith turned to a nearby rack and lifted two swords off of it, handing one each to the two lords. Austin took it and ran his finger along the edge. Not a drop of blood was showing when he brought his hand away. Gripping the hilt, Austin gave it a few experimental swings. The sword was perfectly balanced, rare for a simple sparring sword. Mikken was indeed a skilled smith.

“These are perfect, Mikken. You have my word we shall return them when we are through,” Austin said, bowing his head in the direction of the blacksmith.

Jorah jerked his head towards the nearby courtyard, and Austin followed him towards it. The courtyard of Harrenhal was fairly open, and would clearly be the easiest place to fight without being impeded by the surrounding buildings.

Austin unbuckled his sword belt, hanging it over a nearby post, Jorah copied the motion. Austin then decided to take his armor off, unbuckling the straps on his left side only so that it could slide off on his right. He hung it over the post as well, leaving him in only a thick, long-sleeved leather jerkin, and his faulds.

Lord Jorah shrugged and removed his armor as well, in similar attire as Austin afterwards. Austin knew he had the height and reach advantage before the fight even began, but the Mormonts were known for their sheer strength. Their sigil was a bear, after all. Austin doubted he would have the edge in that department. Jorah also had experience on his side. As Austin took up his ready stance, watching Jorah, studying how he moved, he noticed the older lord doing the same. 

Then, in unison, the two lunged at eachother, swords raised. Austin made the first move, using his reach to make several wide sweeps at Jorah’s legs and torso, but the Lord of Bear Island was quicker than expected. He lightly jumped over the first before ducking into a roll under the second one before rising up on one knee and bringing up his blade to halt the third in its tracks.

Jorah’s head snapped towards Austin’s, and he went on the offensive. He made several calculating strikes, testing Austin’s defenses. They may have only been testing strikes, but Austin felt the strength of a bear behind each blow he parried or blocked. Jorah attempted a quick feint before swinging towards Austin’s head, but the young Dayne ducked under it before bringing his blade up to block the backhanded swing of Jorah. Austin shoved back against the Lord of Bear Island and stood back up to his full height to reassess.

As he glanced around, he saw they’d attracted quite a crowd. Two lords sparring together was not often seen by their soldiers, so they were savoring every second of the match. Looking back to Jorah, Austin saw that he was hardly breathing heavily at all. 

_ So not only is he strong, he’s got stamina as well, _ Austin surmised.

Deciding to use speed as his primary offense, Austin burst forward again. Jorah didn’t meet him, but rather he stayed back and took up a defensive stance. As Austin drew near, he aimed a swipe at the young Dayne, but Austin slid under it and rolled past the Bear lord before reclaiming his feet and rushing at Jorah.

Austin slid his sword up in an arc across Jorah’s upper torso, but the northern lord parried and aimed a quick thrust towards the young Dayne. AustinStepped to one side to avoid it, and raised his sword to block as Jorah turned the thrust into a horizontal slash.

_ He knows how to modify his failed attacks to turn them into new ones, _ Austin granted as their swords clanged together. 

As their blades were locked, Austin stared into the determined eyes of Lord Jorah, whose steely gaze showed his resolve to win in front of his men. Suddenly, Jorah began to shove Austin backwards while their blades were locked. Austin desperately tried to dig his heels into the ground to halt his progress, but the mud only gave way to the brute strength of the Bear lord.

Glancing behind him, Austin saw one of the stone brick walls looming near. Deciding he’d had enough of this, he spun to his left, disengaging with Jorah, who lost his balance and tumbled to the ground. Austin quickly seized the opportunity while Jorah was down. The Bear lord vainly attempted to recover his sword, but just as he raised it, Austin brought his own blade down on it, knocking it out of Jorah’s hand. He then pressed the cold steel of the sparring sword against Jorah’s neck.

Applause began around them all as Austin lowered his sword and extended a hand to Jorah, who took it and was pulled to his feet. Both men panted lightly from the exertion, and Jorah recovered his sword again, meeting no resistance this time. 

“Well fought,” he acknowledged as he grasped Austin’s forearm in a handshake borne of respect. The applause reached its peak as the two men smiled at eachother. 

Austin nodded and grinned. “Aye, that was the toughest match I’ve ever had, Lord Jorah.”

Jorah waved a hand. “Please, just Jorah. And you definitely have some of your father in you, there can be no doubt of that.”

The two lords laughed and traded thoughts that ran through their heads as they strapped their armor back on and reattached their sword belts. After returning the sparring swords to Mikken, the two men bid eachother good day and parted.

* * *

“ALRIGHT LADS! GET UP! WE’VE GOT A LONG DAY’S MARCH AHEAD OF US!” Austin heard from the courtyard. The massive, booming voice woke him from his sleep as if he had been physically slapped from the sound. Austin concluded that it could only come from one source, Robert Baratheon. 

Groaning, Austin sat up, his muscles sore from his duel with Lord Jorah the day before. He slowly stretched his screaming muscles before donning his armor and sword. Making his way down the stone staircases of Harrenhal, Austin emerged to see Jory saddling both of their horses.

“You know you don’t have to saddle my horse every day, right?” Austin said as he approached.

Jory shrugged. “It’s no trouble. Besides, with as late as you sleep in, we’d never leave the castle if you had to saddle your own horse,” the guardsman teased. Austin chuckled before mounting his destrier. 

“You know, if you keep this up, you’ll be just as good as your father in no time,” Jory assured.

Austin glanced at his friend. “I suppose you saw the match yesterday, then?”

“Aye,” Jory nodded, “you have skill, my lord. But Lord Jorah almost beat you on account of his strength and experience.”

Austin sighed. “I know it. I’m hoping this rebellion helps me with that matter. Otherwise, how am I ever supposed to beat Gerold of the branch house?”

“A question better suited to your own mind, my lord,” Jory said bluntly. Clearly, the northman didn’t want to discuss Austin’s family dramas.

Ahead, on signal from Robert Baratheon, the entire garrisoned army at Harrenhal began their long march towards the coast. Lord Stark rode next to his best friend, and the other lords of both the Stormlands and the North followed directly behind. Austin and Jory were at the tail end of the column of lords. 

“And now we’re marching again,” Austin stated plainly. 

* * *

Austin could smell the salt in the air several days before they arrived at the coast. He’d seen the ocean seldom in his life, as the marches of Dorne were not an ideal location for a visit to a beach.

Unfortunately, once they reached the coast, they were to immediately board the ships of the Royal Fleet, so Austin seriously doubted that there would be any sort of leisure time. Especially with that bloodthirsty warmonger of a king, Robert Baratheon.

As the head of the column, with all of the lords, crested a hill, Austin was exposed to the beauty of the sea. The water shone like flame in the setting sun, illuminating the crowned stag sails of the Royal Fleet under the command of Stannis Baratheon.

Luckily, Robert decided to make camp on the shore for the night, likely due to advice from Lord Stark. As Austin and Jory pitched their tents next to eachother, the men continued to file into the camp. There were upwards of thirty thousand men in Robert’s army. Add that to the forces of Tywin Lannister that were already here, and the Greyjoys’ chances were getting slimmer by the second.

The night was quiet, as each man in the camp prepared himself for the voyage, and the battles to come in the next few days. Austin couldn’t help but think that he would either come back as a man, or he wouldn’t come back at all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It almost seemed like it was raining from below as the cold, salty sea spray rose up with each swell of the waves, drenching Austin from his place on the bow of the ship. The morning sun reflected off of the water, making it seem as if the sea was full of blood. Austin imagined that it was a river of his enemies’ blood that he’d caused himself before he heard a voice behind him.

“Cold?”

Austin turned to see Lord Jorah Mormont approaching. “Ah, Jorah. I had no idea you were on this ship as well.”

Jorah crossed his arms. “Well, it usually takes a few hours for me to get my sea legs, so I stayed below.”

Austin nodded. He understood perfectly. He was feeling a little queasy himself, but the cold seawater quickly dispelled all notions of that. “Well, you won’t need them very long. Our portion of the fleet lands on Pyke tomorrow morning, according to King Robert.”

“Aye,” Jorah confirmed. “Though I don’t expect King Robert will want to wait around before beginning the siege.”

Austin chuckled at that. “No, I suppose he won’t.”

“Well, for your sake, I hope you’re not in the vanguard. I’ve seen green boys chewed up and spit out in the vanguard during Robert’s Rebellion,” the Bear lord elaborated.

As if on queue, Lord Stark emerged from belowdecks with King Robert. “Austin!” called the Lord of Winterfell.

Austin glanced at Jorah and the two made their way towards the other lords. They were gathering in the captain’s quarters. As the Greatjon had taken half of the North’s forces to Orkmont, the Mormonts, Cerwyns, Karstarks, and the Manderlys were all that Lord Stark had kept. Granted, the Karstarks and Manderlys were the two most powerful houses in the North besides the Starks. And the Mormonts liked to boast that they fought with the strength of ten men.

Robert himself had the entire Stormlands in his fleet, but the only lords he saw fit to sit on his war council with the other Northern lords were Lord Selwyn Tarth, Lord Estermont, Lord Errol, and Lord Fell.

Austin entered just as Robert Baratheon asked Lord Eddard a question that would seal Austin’s fate.

“Ned, who are your best swords?”

“My personal House Guard, why?” Lord Stark asked.

Robert grinned. “Because I want all of our best swords in the vanguard.”

Austin was taken aback.  _ I’m to be in the vanguard? _

He glanced over at Jorah, who had a grave look on his face. He doubted that many men at all would be inspired to fight in the vanguard against the Greyjoys. They were renowned archers and axethrowers. Austin couldn’t help but concur. He wanted to see battle, but he did not wish for his head to be split open by a throwing axe.

“Why not have our guards stay by us, like usual?” Lord Cerwyn inquired.

Robert shot him a look that immediately shut the man up. “Our best swords in the vanguard. Our best swords first through the breach. I want these ironborn to shit themselves when they see us coming. I’m going to cave in Balon Greyjoy’s face with my hammer and watch as his brains flow onto the floor.”

The other lords all glanced at eachother. Austin also caught the look Lord Stark gave him. It was almost pity, or fear. As if he was afraid that the next time he’d see Austin was as a corpse under the rubble of a tower.

* * *

The sun on the next day was little on the horizon when Austin’s boots hit the rocky shores of the Iron Islands.

“GET THOSE SIEGE ENGINES OFF THE BOATS NOW! I WANT THIS BATTLE TO BE OVER BY DINNER!”

Austin chuckled. He would forever be in awe of King Robert’s booming battlefield voice. The man was bred for war. In fact, he may enjoy it a little too much. Austin saw Lord Stark thought the same thing, as he was amusedly shaking his head next to Robert. 

Austin turned back to see the ground in front of him. It was stony, steep, and wet. This would be difficult for any man in full plate. Luckily, Austin was comfortable in his thick leather and simple breastplate. To his right, Lord Jorah , Longclaw on his hip, full plate armour with a bear sigil on the front, was clambering up the cold rocks. On Austin’s left, Jory, like Austin, was having an easier time of it, as he was in the boiled leather of the North. The heaviest armour on him was a thick steel sallet. Other than that, he had a small steel-coated shield with the direwolf sigil, and a longsword strapped to his hip.

As Jory and Austin were part of Lord Stark’s personal House guard, they were unfortunately in the vanguard. Most all of the lords were in the vanguard as well, except for King Robert and Lord Stark. Hence the reason for Jorah accompanying them. When they reached the top of the hill, looking right, they saw the city of Lordsport, and left, they saw the fortress of Pyke. The ironborn claim that Pyke was an impregnable fortress, but today, Austin vowed that he and the vanguard would impregnate the bitch. 

“Well, I suppose today’s as good a day to die as any, what do you think, boys?” Jory said.

Jorah nodded once. “Aye. I wager you’re right.”

“I don’t plan on dying today. I’ve got a castle to take back,” Austin declared.

The three of them chuckled together. Austin got the sense that if they all three survived this siege, that it was the beginning of a steadfast friendship. He turned around slowly and saw dozens of men pulling on ropes. They were hauling the siege engines up the steep incline slowly but surely. It would take some time, but these trebuchets and ballistae could punch a hole in any wall. 

The day passed slowly, each minute growing closer to the walls of Pyke before King Robert called for the siege lines to be set. The scouts reported that the weakest points of the wall were where they connected to the towers, so that was where the siege aimed. Robert had chosen a tower almost in the center of the wall, perhaps a little farther to the right, but the vanguard lined up and took cover across from it. Some five hundred men, the vanguard assembled here today had some of the greatest fighters in the Seven Kingdoms. The only great fighters that were not here were the ones that were subduing other islands.

Austin was crouched behind a rather large boulder with Jory, Lord Jorah, and Ser Torrhen Snow, the current captain of Lord Stark’s house guard. The captain had an eyepatch, covering a gruesome wound he’d taken when a wildling had tried to shove a bone knife into his skull. He’d saved his own life, but cost himself an eye. He had loong, white hair from old age that was tied back in a ponytail. He wielded a steel axe and shield instead of a sword.

Another man, who Austin found most intriguing, was the priest of the Lord of Light. Thoros of Myr, he said his name was. The man had not ceased drinking since the moment they’d arrived on this godforsaken island. He dressed all in red robes, but had donned a breastplate for combat. A longsword was hanging from his hip, opposite his wineskin.

“Well, I’ve already killed one king, maybe I’ll add another to my list,” said a voice from Austin’s right. On the other side of Jorah and Ser Torrhen Snow, was Ser Jaime Lannister. It made sense that the Kingsguard would be in the vanguard, but ever since Austin had laid eyes on the man at Harrenhal, he’d immediately been wary of the smug, satisfied face and blonde hair.

Austin rolled his eyes at the Lannister’s boasting words before turning his eyes back to the walls of Pyke just as the first volley of boulders and bolts was launched over their heads. The bolts dug into the stone walls, causing several cracks, which were then expanded upon when the boulders impacted the wall. Three more volleys were launched at the wall, and large chunks of the walls began to crumble and crash to the ground. The fifth volley caused a chain reaction throughout the entire foundations of the stone wall, and a large breach, maybe twenty yards across, even bringing down the tower next to it.

The men of the vanguard rose to their feet and cheered, hearing the screams of the ironborn. Ser Torrhen Snow scrambled up on top of the boulder and brandished his axe towards the wall. 

“Let’s get ‘em, boys!” he shouted. No sooner after he’d uttered the last syllable, an arrowhead protruded through his other eye socket. His lifeless corpse tumbled off of the boulder, leaving a red trail of his red blood.

Austin didn’t have time to register his captain’s death, as the men let out fierce battlecries and charged towards the breach. Due to Austin’s long legs and lighter armour, he was able to catch up with Jory. Lord Jorah was lumbering like a bear, far ahead of them. The only person in front of Jorah was the Fire Priest. Thoros of Myr had unsheathed his longsword and ran his hand across it. Instantly, flames coated the length of the blade, leaving a trail of smoke behind him as he ran. 

Incredulously, the ironborn began backing away from the insane man with the flaming sword, as if he were a god made flesh. Jorah joined Thoros soon after, cutting down the ironborn with all the strength of the bears. Jory and Austin charged into battle, dozens of Lord Stark’s house guard in tow. They smashed into the ironborn ranks, and Austin thrust his sword through the nearest man’s throat. He made a gurgling sound as he spit up blood and collapsed to the ground.

Austin stared at the red liquid coating the tip of his blade with horrifying curiosity. This wasn’t anything like he’d imagined. He didn’t have time to rethink his life’s decisions, however, as another ironman ruched him with a two-handed battleaxe. Austin ducked and rolled to one side to avoid the man’s overhead swing before bringing his blade across the back of the man’s thighs, severing both hamstrings. Austin quickly rose to his feet before stabbing the man in the ribs to finish him off. 

Taking a quick glance around, Austin saw the massive battle raging on. He realized that the vanguard was designed as a distraction force, for multiple additional breaches had opened up across the rest of the walls. Thousands upon thousands of Northmen and Stormlanders were streaming into the large, open, grassy field that separated the towers of Pyke from the walls. 

Amazingly, somewhere in all the chaos, he heard Robert Baratheon’s commanding voice. “NO MERCY!”

That was all Austin needed, as he turned back to his own situation. He saw Jory engaged with a much larger ironborn. The man was fighting with a tower shield and a large bastard sword, putting Jory at a disadvantage with his single longsword. The larger ironman was raining blow after blow upon Jory, who was using all of his skill and strength to keep from being killed. 

Suddenly, the ironborn locked blades with Jory before producing a knife in his shield hand. He attempted to run the knife through Jory’s eye, but the Cassel tilted his head so that the knife only gashed the left side of his cheek. The ironman growled and smashed Jory with his shield, knocking him to the ground.

Just before the man could bring down the sword on Jory, Austin quickly rushed to his aid, running his sword through the man’s back, the point protruding out from his chest. Austin withdrew his sword and Jory nodded to him as he stood up, blood seeping though his fingers as he cupped the right side of his face.

Austin whirled back around to see a large contingent of Northmen reinforce their position. They were slowly driving the ironborn back towards the towers of Pyke. When they neared the keep itself, many of the ironborn retreated into the towers. Somehow, Austin ended up back in the front, next to Jorah Mormont, but no Jory.

The two looked surprised to see eachother amidst such carnage. Austin’s armor was splattered with blood, and he had several cuts in the leather along his thighs and arms, but none actually got through the leather. Jorah’s armor was blood-stained as well, and the Bear lord’s only visible injury being a gash on his left arm where an ironborn axe had caught him.

The two halted when they came to the bridge leading to the keep, signaling for the rest of the men to stop as well. Across the causeway, the ironborn were brandishing their weapons at the attackers.

“Why have we stopped, dammit?” Austin heard as Robert Baratheon shoved his way to stand next to Lord Jorah and Austin, accompanied by Lord Stark. Both men were muddy and bloody, but the blood of their enemies, not their own. King Robert’s warhammer had such a coating of blood on it, you’d swear the damn thing was painted that way.

And Ice, the ancestral Valyrian Steel greatsword of House Stark, was no longer its cool gray, rippling color. No, rather it was like someone had poured a fine Dornish red along its length. Here were two of the most renowned commanders and warriors in the Seven Kingdoms. They were the two men who led their armies to victory in Robert’s Rebellion.

“The ironborn will be dangerous to fight in there, in such close quarters, Your Grace,” replied Lord Jorah.

Robert looked at Jorah with all the Baratheon fury he could muster. “We kill them all,” he said before charging towards the assembled ironmen. Lord Stark was quick to follow. Austin and Jorah followed the two veteran warriors into the keep, and were immediately surrounded by scores of ironborn. Austin was forced to pull out his dagger from his belt and use it to cut several mens’ throats amidst such close quarters. Above it all, he heard the clangs followed by laughter from the King.

Austin figured that this was some of the hardest fighting anyone would ever have to do. Such close quarters made it feel like you were a caged animal fighting for survival. One glance at Jorah only confirmed it for the young Dayne.

Eventually, though, Austin and Jorah managed to cut a path towards Lord Stark and King Robert, and the four of them, followed by Ser Jaime and Jory, as well as dozens of others, breached the main hall. Austin saw the Usurper Balon at the far end of the room, seated on a simple stone throne, a crown of salt-rock on his head. 

But his time would come, as currently, they had to deal with the most elite retainers of the ironborn. Austin even spotted a man in full plate armor, wielding a two-handed battleaxe with a kraken helmet. King Robert personally smacked the man aside, and he slumped against a wall, helmet falling from his head. Austin parried a blow from one of the ironborn before pivoting and putting the full might of his swing towards the man’s neck. With a sickening, slick, wet sound, the man’s head tumbled harmlessly to the floor.

Once Lord Stark had practically cleaved the last man in half with Ice, leaving only Balon Greyjoy, Austin took a moment to assess the carnage in the hall. He had to fight the urge to regurgitate the contents of his stomach as the smell of shit and iron reached his nose. If this was war, he realized now why Lord Stark was wearied of it. Austin now realized his mistakes. In his youth, he’d courted war, trying to live up to his father’s name, but now...now he realized the importance of peace and governance. 

Unfortunately, that would not stop him from keeping up his sword skills. However, Austin swore silently that day that he would only commit violence when absolutely necessary. He did not wish for the entire Seven Kingdoms to be engulfed in shit and blood.

Turning his attention back towards the men, Austin saw King Robert staring down at Balon Greyjoy. “Well? What’ll it be? Death to your house? Or will you bend the knee?”

The self-proclaimed king of salt and rock gazed into King Robert’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity before he slowly raised his hands towards the top of his head. He removed the crown and set it aside before rising. Staring at King Robert once again, looking as if he’d rather fight than bend the knee, Balon Greyjoy finally decided to slowly lower himself to one knee.

King Robert almost looked disappointed. “Pity, my hammer was thirsty,” he said before raising a booted foot and smashing it across Balon’s face and storming from the room. 

  
_ Ours is the Fury indeed, _ Austin thought.


	8. Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GAME OF THRONES OR ANY ASSOCIATED CHARACTERS

Sorry guys, this chapter is unusually short because the events that take place in the next chapter don’t have the same feel or tone as the ones in this chapter. It would just feel out of place if I tried to cram it all into this one chapter. Anyways, enjoy and leave a review if you can!

Chapter 8

Austin sheathed his sword and exited the hall with Jory and Jorah in tow. All three of them were exhausted and speechless at the massive battle that had occurred today. They walked back across the bridge and stopped to survey the carnage below. The entire field between the walls and Pyke itself was littered with bodies.

Enormous red stains looked like rashes upon the ground and the bodies themselves were already starting to become ridden with insects. Austin was speechless. Never in a million years would he wish for such death and destruction. 

When I wanted to go off to war, it was just to live up to my father’s name. What a stupid reason for all of this. I’m such an idiot,  Austin thought.

The three men glanced at eachother, each person’s thought clear in their eyes. Jorah took the first step, and began to proceed down the hill. Jory followed and Austin paused before sighing and heading down as well. The army camp was far beyond the walls, so they had to make their way through one of the breaches to get there. 

But before they could even reach the wall, they were stopped by that booming battlefield voice. “Austin of House Dayne. Jorah of House Mormont. Here,” Robert Baratheon pointed to the dirt in front of him. 

Austin looked at Jory apologetically before following Jorah over to King Robert. Lord Stark was there as well, Ice now secured in its sheath on the northman’s back. Austin came to a halt next to Jorah, staring King Robert in the eye.

“Some of the lads told me how the two of you were among the first through the breach. The fact that you survived the fighting is testament to what I’m about to do. Kneel,” King Robert ordered.

Austin looked up incredulously to Lord Stark, who only smiled and nodded his assent. Austin did as he was bade, placing his right knee in the bloody dirt. King Robert took a sword from one of his men and approached Lord Jorah. Lord Stark unsheathed Ice and stood in front of Austin. Both men presented their arms and began the sacred charges. 

“In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent.”

Austin almost had tears in his eyes at this point. It was everything he’d ever wanted, it just came at the wrong price. 

“Arise, Austin Dayne. A knight of the Seven Kingdoms,” Lord Stark commanded.

Austin looked up at the man who’d become like a father to him. As Austin slowly rose to his feet, the Warden of the North stepped forward and enveloped the young Dayne in a bear hug. “Ser Austin Dayne. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Austin only nodded. He had no words. He released the hug and turned to the newly annointed Ser Jorah. The two men shared a smile and grasped hands in respect.

The beginning of a friendship indeed, Austin thought.

* * *

Winterfell. The cold fortress felt like home now, after four years of living in it. The relief that washed over Austin as he rode through the gates of the castle was immeasurable. He couldn’t help but wonder if this is what it would feel like if he rode into Starfall again after all these years. 

Austin slowed his horse behind Lord Stark and dismounted, surveying the courtyard as the assembled greeters quickly rushed the returning warriors and lords.

Austin saw Edric approaching, and he dismounted to hug his cousin. When they parted, the shorter Edric noticed Austin’s sadness in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Austin shook his head. “Not now. Later.”

Lord Stark was rushed by his three children and his wife, holding their baby in her arms as Jory embraced his uncle Rodrik. The rest of Lord Stark’s retainers found their families amongst the crowd. Austin did note the tears being shed by the assembled commonfolk when they realized that their loved ones had perished in battle. 

They only reinforced Austin’s decision for the future. He had an idea for himself that no one was going to be able to keep him from doing. 

Young Jon Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell, only eight years old, was standing off to the side, waiting for his chance to greet his father. Austin approached the young lad, kneeling down to be face to face. 

“Hey, Jon. Were you good while we were gone?”

The black-haired boy nodded fiercely. “Ser Rodrik started training me and Robb to fight!”

Austin gave a hollow smile. “That’s great, Jon.”

In reality, this was not great. Austin thought of Lord Stark’s children as his younger siblings, and he did not wish for them to come into harms way, especially with what he’d seen on the field of battle. But nevertheless, he could not very well order them not to, as he was not their father.

Austin rose and walked towards the hall, Edric in tow. The two cousins had become much closer than any normal cousins would be. They had endured thousands of miles of travel together, and had been raised in the same castle all of their life. Their shared experiences had bonded the two for life. In the event that the two young Daynes did take back their home from their traitorous distant cousin, Gerold, Austin would remain at Starfall and aid his cousin in his rule.

“So what’s wrong?” Edric pried.

Austin turned to look at his cousin, eyes cold and forceful. “War happened. It’s not all the songs make it seem. It’s bloody, brutal, and I don’t want it anymore.”

Edric recoiled at Austin’s words. “I had no idea,” he said quietly.

Austin sighed. “I’m sorry. How could you know? You’re twelve. Nevermind me, go help young Theon Greyjoy get settled in. He’s Lord Stark’s new ward,” Austin said, pointing to the young lad.

Edric nodded and ran off. Austin pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. The hardest part of what he was going to do would be having to leave Edric. 

Making his way over to Lord Stark, he took the man aside. “We need to talk, tonight.”

* * *

Austin rose when he heard the sharp rap of knuckles on his door. He opened it to reveal Lord Stark, who stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. 

“What did you wish to speak of?”

Austin looked up at his surrogate father figure with all the affection he could muster before answering. “I need to leave.”

Lord Stark was speechless for a few seconds as he tried to process what Austin meant. “What do you mean, leave? You have nowhere to go. Starfall is held by a hostile force.”

Austin shook his head. “Not Starfall. I’m going into the wilderness.” 

At Lord Stark’s confused look, Austin continued. “I’ve seen battle. I have foolishly courted it until now. The horrors that took place on that field will forever be etched into my brain. I need to be away from everyone. I need time to get my mind right.”

Lord Stark nodded his understanding. “I know what you mean. Truly, I do. Though I was not so lucky as yourself. After Robert’s Rebellion, I had to return here and take up the mantle of Warden of the North.”

Austin didn’t respond, allowing Lord Stark to finish. “I give you my blessing. Though I beg you not to act rashly and get yourself killed.”

Austin gave a half smile before holding out his hand for Lord Stark to shake. “If you ever need me, send word, and I will come.”

Lord Stark took Austin’s hand and shook it strongly before pulling the young Dayne into his embrace. “I will miss you, lad. Just know that I count you among my own children.”

* * *

“So that’s it? You’re leaving me? Just like that?” Edric demanded as Austin packed what little he would need to be in the wild. 

Austin stopped for a second to look at his cousin that he counted as a brother. “I don’t do this out of hatred, Edric. Rather the opposite. I love you too much to allow my trauma to affect your life. I will return when I am needed or when I see fit.”

Edric bit back a sniffle and hugged Austin around the waist. “I’ll miss you.”

Austin chuckled and patted the boy on the back. “And I you.”

Glancing up, Austin noticed Jon and Robb staring at him from afar. Austin broke off the embrace with Edric and gave the boy a small smile before approaching Lord Stark’s two oldest children. He kneeled down to be face to face with the boys, placing a hand on each lad’s shoulder.

“Keep up your training. When I come back, I expect a full sparring match from the both of you,” Austin smiled.

They both nodded vigorously and wrapped their arms around Austin’s neck. Chuckling, he pulled the boys off of him. “I’ll be back, I swear.”

Rising back to his feet, he took one look up onto the balcony where Lord and Lady Stark were watching him with little Sansa and Arya. Baby Bran was wrapped in Lady Stark’s arms. Austin raised his right hand in a final farewell, Lord Stark returning the action, before mounting his horse. He adjusted his sword belt so that it would be more comfortable to ride with before flicking the reins and trotting out of the castle.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The sons of Lord Stark were gathered in the courtyard below the balcony. Robb and Jon, now seventeen year olds, were both overseeing Bran’s archery training, along with Edric, who was now twenty-one. Now ten, Bran had taken to archery instead of a sword. Except for the fact that he was still struggling, evidenced by the arrow he fired into a barrel several meters left of his target. 

Jon bent down and placed his hands on Bran’s shoulders. “Go on, father’s watching. And your mother.”

Bran looked up at his parents, both smiling and encouraging. Bran turned back to his task, firing a few more arrows towards the target, narrowly missing each time. 

Robb leaned to touch shoulders with Jon. “I wish Austin were here. He’d have more patience with this hopeless ness.”

Jon nodded. “Aye, he would. But he left for a good reason. It’s his choice.”

“I do wish he’d come back, though. None of us has seen him in nine years. All we have is a vague location: the Wolfswood,” Edric added.

Robb sighed. “I suppose the only option we have is to let him come back to us, though we have no idea how many more months or years it will be.”

The three were jerked out of their side conversation as Bran loosed another arrow, this time sailing at least three meters over the target, hitting a tree and startling some birds. 

Robb turned around in embarrassment as Jon and Edric cracked up laughing. Even little Rickon joined in from his seat on a nearby saddle. 

“And which one of you was a marksman at ten?” Lord Stark called from the balcony above. “Keep practicing, Bran. Go on.”

Bran nodded and prepared another arrow. “Don’t think too much, Bran.”

As he drew back, the three young lords watched. “Relax your bow arm,” Robb instructed.

Just before Bran could loose his arrow, however, one appeared right in the center of the bullseye. Edric, Jon, Robb, and Bran whipped their heads around to search for the unknown archer. They were astonished to see their younger sister Arya, holding a bow. She smiled and curtsied before Bran threw down his bow and chased her in frustration.

The rest of the men laughed as the two young ones ran around the courtyard. Shrugging, Edric began helping Jon retrieve the arrows. A few minutes later, Theon appeared and told them to saddle their horses. “Edric, Lord Stark says you’re coming, too.”

Edric looked confused, but did as he was bade. When he saw Lord Stark, though, he approached him. “Lord Stark, why am I to attend such matters? I am not of the North.”

Lord Stark shook his head. “No, you are not of the North, and you do not follow the Old Gods, but if you are to ever be the Lord of Starfall, such duties must fall to you. Besides, I have taught you how to rule as a northerner. It would comfort me greatly to know that the lord of such a powerful house as House Dayne was an honourable man. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.”

Edric nodded and bowed slightly at the older lord’s words, following him out the gates of Winterfell. The ride to the sacred location where Lord Stark did all of his beheadings was long and cold, but Edric’s thirteen years in the North made him used to it. There were several guardsmen already there, holding a man dressed in all black by the shoulders. He had his arms tied behind his back.

Dismounting, Edric moved to stand next to Robb and Jory, the captain of Lord Stark’s guard now that Torrhen Snow had died, as Lord Stark approached the wooden block. He heard the deserter’s last words before drawing Ice. “In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, first of his name, rightful King of the Andals and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, I, Eddard, of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North, sentence you to die.”

With that, Lord Stark flipped Ice in his hands and brought it down in one true swing, severing the man’s head from his shoulders. Edric would forever marvel at the sight of Ice’s Valyrian Steel. It was beautiful. The blood and decapitated head, however, were not.

The business quickly over, the lads began to mount their horses. Edric noted Lord Stark’s conversation with Bran before the group departed. 

“Hey, Edric, fancy a race?” Robb asked.

Edric nodded. “Jon, too. To the bridge.”

The trio got ready and bent low in their saddles as Robb shouted “GO!”

Edric took off, his destrier hitting top speed in a matter of seconds. Unfortunately, Robb’s and Jon’s horses were bred just as well as Edric’s, and it was a three way tie for most of the race before they pulled back on the reins when they saw a bloody mess blocking the road. They dismounted and drew their swords, waiting to approach until Lord Stark arrived.

As the Lord of Winterfell dismounted, Edric, Jon, Robb, and Theon shadowed him. The bloody mess turned out to be the disemboweled remains of a buck. One side of his antlers were missing, however, and Lord Stark followed a trail of blood down to the bank of the stream below. Laying immobile in the dirt was the largest wolf Edric had ever seen. This dwarfed the largest wolves he’d seen since arriving in the North. 

“It’s a freak,” Theon tried.

Lord Stark knelt next to the animal. “It’s a direwolf. Tough old beast,” he said as he pulled the missing buck’s antler from the wolf’s chest. 

“There are no direwolves south of the wall,” Robb informed, sure of himself.

Edric would never understand the superstition of northerners. They all stood, grim-faced and wary, while he was gawking at the size of the creature. 

“Now there are five,” Jon said as he picked up one of the five direwolf pups. “Do you want to hold it?” he asked as he handed one to Bran, who looked like he fell in love the moment he touched the beast.

“Where will they go?” the young Stark boy asked. “Their mother’s dead.”

Ser Rodrik spoke up from his place behind Jory. “They don’t belong down here.”

“Better a quick death,” Lord Stark said, standing up. “They won’t last without their mother.”

Theon drew his dagger, a little too eagerly for Edric’s taste, grabbing one of the pups. “Right, give it here.”

“NO!” Bran protested loudly. 

“Put away your blade,” Robb said, his voice dripping with venom.

Theon scoffed. “I take orders from your father, not you.”

“Please father,” Bran pleaded with Lord Stark, who shook his head solemnly.

“I’m sorry, Bran.”

“Lord Stark,” Jon spoke up. “There are five pups, one for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is the sigil of your house. You were meant to have them.”

Lord Stark looked as if he was caught between the frying pan and the fire as all eyes looked to him expectantly. “You will train them yourselves, you will feed them yourselves, and if they die, you will bury them yourselves.”

Edric looked at Jon with a wry grin as they gathered up the five wolf pups. “What about you?” Bran asked Jon.

“I’m not a Stark,” he replied begrudgingly.

As they turned to leave, Jon stopped and reached a hand into the brush. “What is it?” asked Robb curiously.

Jon withdrew his hand, holding a pure white direwolf pup with red eyes. “Ah, the runt of the litter. That one’s yours, Snow,” Theon declared, amusedly.

* * *

_ One Month Later _

“Why’s your mother so dead set on us getting pretty for the King?” Jon demanded. Edric couldn’t help but agree. He’d been working on a beard for the past year, and it was just starting to grow in nicely. He’d tried to pull the ‘I am a lord’ card on Lady Stark, but she could be intimidating when she wanted to be. Thus, Edric now found himself shirtless in the barber’s.

“It’s for the queen, I bet. I hear she’s a sleek bit of mink,” Theon tried.

Edric shrugged. He didn’t care who it was for, he just wanted to keep his beard. His face would get cold without it.

“I hear the prince is a right royal prick,” Robb spat.

“Think of all those southern girls he gets to stab with his right royal prick,” Theon said.

Edric rolled his eyes. That was all Theon ever talked about. Whenever he found himself in situations like this, Theon was always talking about some redhead down at the brothel named Ros. At least he had the decency not to talk about it in front of women.

Robb rose from the chair, having been clean-shaven. “Go on, Tommy, shear him good. He’s never met a girl he likes better than his own hair,” he said as he slapped Jon on the shoulder.

The bastard of Winterfell did not look happy as he plopped down in the chair. It took a while for Tommy to shear Jon, due to his long curls, but Edric found that it was his turn. He held up a hand to Tommy. “Don’t touch the hair. Just the beard.”

Tommy smirked before pulling out his blade and coating Edric’s face with cream. When he’d finished, the cool air sent tingles down Edric’s spine as it touched his bare skin for the first time in a while.

“I’ll wager Austin’ll need a good shearing when he comes back from the Wolfswood,” Robb bet.

Edric nodded. He could only imagine what Austin looked like now, having spent nine years in the wilderness. That was assuming he was still alive. He could tell the others thought the same, but none of them dared voice the thought, as if speaking it would bring it into existence.

* * *

Edric stood next to Jon and Rodrik, directly behind the Stark family. Unfortunately, Edric hadn’t grown as much as Austin, so he was only six feet, two inches. By no means short, but not a giant like some lords he’d met. Bronze Yohn Royce stood a giant amongst all northmen but the Greatjon on his visit to Winterfell when he was escorting his son to the Wall.

Edric looked on in anticipation as the King’s column slowly approached. Edric had never met the king, and he was somewhat nervous. Austin had handled the king fine, though, so Edric saw little reason to fear. Especially when he saw the great fat oaf of a man that rode in after the Queen’s carriage, surrounded by the Kingsguard.

All in assembly knelt as two servants brought a stepping ladder for the king to dismount on. Fat as he was, Edric still noted the greatsword strapped to his hip as if it were the size of a normal sword. The strength of the Baratheons was something to behold.

The King, Robert Baratheon, approached the Stark family as if he were angry at the patriarch. He stopped in front of Eddard and flexed his hand, bidding them stand up. Lord Stark rose first, followed by the rest of the people. Robert Baratheon was a good six and a half feet, taller than Lord Stark, so he had to look down at the man. 

“Your Grace,” Lord Stark bowed.

Robert Baratheon tilted his head, as if he were being sarcastic about Lord Stark’s choice of words.

“You’ve got fat,” he declared, referring to Lord Stark.

Not missing a beat, Lord Stark raised his eyebrows and motioned with his head to Robert’s great belly. The two stared eachother down for what felt like hours before breaking out into chuckles of laughter and embracing like the two old friends they were.

“Nine years. Why haven’t I seen you? Where the hell have you been?” Robert demanded.

Lord Stark smiled, a rare thing nowadays. “Guarding the North for you, Your Grace, Winterfell is yours.”

Robert turned to Robb. “Who have we here? You must be Robb,” he said, shaking the Stark lad’s hand before passing Sansa. “Aye, you’re a pretty one. And your name is?” he said, bending down to ask Arya, who answered.

“Oh,” he said, stopping in front of Bran. “Show us your muscles. You’ll be a soldier,” he said with a great wheezing laugh.

He turned back to Lord Stark. “Take me to your crypt, I want to pay my respects.”

“We’ve been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait,” the queen, Cersei Lannister protested, but Robert wasn’t having it.

“Ned,” he ordered before walking off. Lord Stark slowly followed, the two disappearing into the depths beneath the castle. 

The crowd cleared out and Edric joined up with Robb, Jon, and Theon. “Well, that wasn’t so bad,” he said.

Robb scoffed. “You didn’t see Sansa and the Prince making eyes at eachother. Gods, I want to kill the kid already and he hasn’t said a word yet.”

The other three chuckled. “Well, I say we get some sparring in before the feast, work off some of these frustrations. Sound good?” Jon asked, getting nods from the others.

They made their way to the training yard, removing their cloaks and grabbing practice swords. Edric decided to team with Theon, allowing the two brothers to fight together. It was a way of balancing the teams out, as Jon and Robb were better swordsmen than Theon. Edric was not the best, nowhere near as good as Austin, but he had his moments.

The match begun when Theon crossed in front of Edric, headed after Jon. Edric circled around behind and engaged Robb. Robb was a better swordsman, which embarrassed Edric, because he was four years Robb’s senior. 

Edric made the first move, aiming to take Robb off guard, but the young Stark was ready for it. He dropped his sword low and ducked under Edric’s strike, forcing the Dayne to retreat. Edric bumped into Theon, who was having a tough time with Jon. Edric spun and switched places with the Greyjoy, now advancing towards Jon, raining blow after blow on the bastard’s defenses.

Jon was unyielding, parrying and blocking each of Edric’s attacks until their blades locked and he went on the offensive. Edric batted a thrust aside and blocked a horizontal slash, but he fell for a feint and the next thing he knew, he was on his back, sword tip pointed at his chest. Twisting, Edric looked to see Theon in the same position.

“Seven hells, you two are too good of a team,” Edric complained.

Robb chuckled. “When are you going to learn, Dayne?”

Their shared laughs were interrupted by the slow clapping from an approaching golden-haired figure. “Well fought,” Prince Joffrey praised sarcastically, approaching Robb.

None of the four men were scared of Joffrey, but the man flanking him on the other hand was another matter entirely. Sandor Clegane, or the Hound, was notorious for his unquestionable obedience and talent for violence. Half of his face was burned, though few knew the actual story. There were rumors, but no one dared utter them in the Hound’s presence, for fear of losing a limb.

Robb looked down at the shorter Prince with disgust. “Care for a match, my Prince?” he asked, the last two words coming out of his mouth like bile.

Joffrey scoffed. “I’d be afraid to wound you. I’m much better than any of you. Why would I waste my time?”

Jon let out a guttural growl that was thankfully indiscernible by the Prince. “As you wish, my Prince,” Edric said in an effort to ease the palpable tension. He found himself hating the Prince already, and he’d only said two sentences. Joffrey smirked and raised his chin before turning on his heel and exiting the training yard.

“Theon, let's slit his throat in his sleep,” Robb joked.

Edric chuckled and shook his head. “How does one even get that high on themself?”

“He’s had lies and coddling words shoved up his ass since he was old enough to crawl, I’d wager,” Jon said.

Edric laughed harder at that before heading to his chambers to wash for the inevitable feast that night.

* * *

The feast was a great ordeal. Many pounds of food were eaten, and the guests had emptied eight barrels of ale, requiring more to be brought up from the cellar. Edric had eaten his fill and excused himself with Robb when he took Arya to bed. Lord Stark had stayed until Robert was near passed out before heading off to bed with Lady Stark, where the two now lay.

“I’m a Northman. I belong here with you, not down south in that rats’ nest they call a capital,” Ned told his wife.

She adamantly agreed. “I won’t let him take you.”

“A King takes what he wants. That’s why he’s king,” Ned explained.

Catelyn sat up and looked her husband in the eye. “I’ll say ‘Listen, fat man, you are not taking my husband anywhere. He belongs to me now.’”

“How did he get so fat?” Ned asked incredulously.

“He only stops eating when it’s time for a drink,” Catelyn laughed before she was silenced by a knock on the door.

“It’s maester Luwin, my lord,” the guard called.

“Send him in,” Lord Stark replied.

The wooden door opened to Luwin, who quickly closed it behind him. “Pardon, my lord, my lady. A rider in the night, from your sister.”

Catelyn shot up at those words, quickly rising and taking the sealed letter from Luwin. “This was sent from the Eyrie. What’s she doing at the Eyrie? She hasn’t been back there since her wedding.”

Suddenly, Catelyn looked up and rushed over to the fire, throwing the letter into it. “What news?” demanded Ned.

“She’s fled the capital. She says Jon Arryn was murdered. By the Lannisters. She says the king is in danger,” Catelyn detailed.

Ned wouldn’t believe it so easily, though. “She’s fresh widowed, Cat. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

Catelyn shook her head. “Lysa’s head would be on a spike right now if the wrong people had found that letter. Do you think she would risk her life, her son’s life, if she wasn’t certain her husband was murdered?”

Ned turned away to face the wall, deep in thought. 

“If this news it true, and the Lannisters conspire against the throne, who but you can protect the king?” Luwin reasoned.

Cat wouldn’t have it, though. “They murdered the last Hand. Now you want Ned to take the job.”

“The king rode for a month to ask for Lord Stark’s help. He’s the only one he trusts. You swore the king an oath, my lord,” Luwin tried.

“He’s spent half his life fighting Robert’s wars. He owes him nothing. Your father and brother rode south once, on a king’s demand,” Catelyn said, using all her power and knowledge to try and convince Ned to stay with her.

“A different time. A different king,” Luwin pressed.

Catelyn looked at Luwin. “You can’t seriously believe that my husband will be safe in the capital. It’s nothing but traitorous backstabbers and schemers. They would murder Ned without a second thought and Robert with him.”

Ned made up his mind. “If they mean to murder me, then I’ll need my best sword back.”

  
_ Ser Austin Dayne, _ he thought.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Lord Stark emerged from his hall, dressed for hunting and riding. Before he mounted, however, he sought out his eldest son, Robb.

“I need you to take Jon and Edric. Find Austin. Tell him I need him back here immediately. Speak of this to no one but me, your mother, and maester Luwin. Go,” Lord Stark ordered.

Robb nodded and immediately took off to find Jon and Edric. Lord Eddard turned to mount his horse just as Robert Baratheon rode up beside him. “You as good with a spear as you used to be?”

Lord Stark shook his head. “No. But I’m still better than you.”

“I know what I’m putting you through. Thank you for saying yes. I only ask you because I need you. You’re a loyal friend. You hear me? A loyal friend. The last one I’ve got,” Robert stressed.

“I hope I’ll serve you well,” Ned replied.

Robert nodded. “You will. And I’ll make sure you don’t look so fucking grim all the time. Come on boys, let’s go kill some boar!”

* * *

Robb found Jon and Edric at the training grounds, getting some much needed sword practice on Edric’s part. They both stopped when Robb practically sprinted up to them. “What is it?” Jon asked.

“Father says we’re to find Austin. Saddle your horses and pack provisions, but do it quietly, and tell no one,” Robb ordered quietly.

The other two nodded and set off towards the kitchens. They grabbed a couple of burlap sacks and packed them with dried meat and bread before taking off towards the stables. Edric retrieved his sword and strapped it to his hip before donning his cloak and mounting up next to Robb. 

“Do we know where he is?”

Robb shook his head. “I have a vague idea. North of Crofter’s Village, in the mountains, I was going to start.”

Edric shrugged. “Lead on.”

Robb nodded and set off at a trot out the gates of the castle, headed west, into the vast Wolfswood.

* * *

“Every time I enter this forest, I feel like an outsider. Like everything in here wants to brutally kill me,” Edric shivered.

Robb couldn’t help but agree. There were very few people who could survive on their own in the Wolfswood. He only prayed that Austin was one of them.

The three of them rode at a steady pace for three days, taking turns keeping watch when they camped, before they arrived at Crofter’s Village. Stopping to ask about Austin, no luck turned up, so they turned north, towards the mountains. 

Edric yawned. He hadn’t slept very well the past few nights in the forest, and for good reason. A wolf’s howl could be heard every five minutes, not to mention cracking undergrowth around them. 

“Look,” Jon said, pointing to the sky. There was smoke rising into the air, likely from a fire or a chimney. 

Edric didn’t get his hopes up. It could be, but more than likely it wasn’t Austin. All thoughts ceased, however, when they turned a corner and were met with a wall of thorny rosebushes. Forced to abandon the horses, they tied them to a nearby tree and proceeded on foot, the thorns ripping at their clothing. Edric drew his sword as a precaution, Robb and Jon doing the same.

Almost as soon as Edric cleared the bushes, he heard the most bone-chilling sound of his entire life. A low, guttural huff of air followed by pounding footsteps that could only mean one thing. Bear. 

Sure enough, parting several small trees, the figure of an enormous grizzly bear appeared. It lumbered onto the small dirt path, directly in the way of the three men, as if it were guarding the entrance. Edric held his sword out in front of him as the bear slowly advanced towards them.

Robb took to shouting challenges and waving his blade about to attempt to deter the bear, but it seemed to only anger it further. The giant grizzly rose up onto its hind legs and roared at them. 

Edric might have shit his pants if it weren’t for the sudden flash of brown and white that came from the trees to stand in front of him. Edric realized that it was a man! He had long, white hair, reaching halfway down his back, and a thick, scruffy white beard that covered half of his face. He was dressed in a mottled green and brown cloak, likely for camouflage in the trees, but yet he carried no weapon, and he was facing down an angry grizzly.

“Down, Ingavar. Relax. Calm. Friends,” said the man, raising his hands and motioning towards the three men with swords drawn. “Sheathe your swords.”

Jon looked at the hermit like he was insane. “What? We’ll be eaten alive if we do.”

The hermit shook his head. “You will die even if you have them out. Now sheathe your blades.”

Edric quickly did as he was told, followed by Robb and a grumbling Jon. The three mimicked the hermit’s actions and raised their arms in a sign of surrender. 

Seemingly satisfied that his intimidation tactic had worked, the enormous grizzly came back down onto four paws with a thud that vibrated Edric in his shoes. The bear suddenly went timid as it approached the three of them curiously, sniffing at the air.

The hermit turned to face the three men as he petted the fur on the scruff of the bear’s neck. As he studied the man, Edric noticed something familiar about him. He had a wild mane of stark white hair, and a beard to match. Looking closer, Edric saw a pair of violet eyes hidden behind the mane that matched his own. 

“Austin?”

* * *

Austin hadn’t seen his cousin, or Lord Stark’s sons, for that matter, in nine years. Nine long years with nothing but the wilderness to keep him alive. So when he heard a now fully grown Edric say his name, it brought him back to reality. Austin’s voice sounded huskier than it used to, both from maturity, as well as lack of use. But it was the bear that seemed to unnerve Edric.

“Austin?”

Austin nodded. “It’s been a long time, Edric. You’ve certainly grown.”

Edric still had his eyes on the bear, not wishing to approach Austin with such a powerful animal so close. Austin noticed this and waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry about Ingavar here. He was just trying to scare you guys. In reality, he’s quite timid, unless something dangerous is nearby.”

Robb scoffed. “Well that’s good to hear.”

Austin studied the tall, young Northman. “Robb?”

Robb nodded. “Aye.”

Austin turned his head to the pale boy with black curls. “And Jon? What on earth are the three of you doing in the Wolfswood?”

“Looking for you,” Robb spoke up. “It’s time to come home, Austin.”

Austin sighed. “Somehow I knew that you fools wouldn’t let me come back in my own time. I’m twenty-six, I’ve still got plenty of life left in me.”

Robb shook his head. “That’s not the point. My father said he was calling you back. Said he needed you. He wouldn’t tell me why, but I could tell by the look on his face that he was serious.”

Austin pondered this for a second. “I think you’d better come inside. Come, Ingavar.”

As if it were an oversized dog, the giant bear, Ingavar as Austin called it, turned and followed the older Dayne down the dirt path, towards the chimney smoke. 

“So how did a Dayne of Starfall manage to turn a bear into a pet?” Jon inquired as they walked.

Austin chuckled before reaching a hand out to pat Ingavar on the head. The bear looked up at him affectionately before licking Austin’s hand. “I found Ingavar here when he was just a cub, maybe four years ago? Three? Something like that. He’d been separated from his mother, and when I couldn’t find her after days of scouring the countryside, i decided to raise him myself.”

Edric whistled in amazement. “Jon and Robb here know a lot about having big beasts for pets.”

Austin looked intrigued. “Oh?”

“Aye. We found a litter of six direwolf pups on the road back from Winterfell a month ago,” Robb stated.

Austin smiled. “It seems like we all have our own beasts then.”

By this time, they’d reached a small clearing which contained a small, log cabin, likely handmade by Austin, and a large pen with a simple gate that was likely used as Ingavar’s sleeping area, judging by the amount of furs that were piled in one corner. Austin opened the gate and let Ingavar in before closing it and leading the three men into the cabin. He sat them down in simple, handmade wooden chairs and poured them a hot glass of tea.

“Apologies for the drink. All there is round here is leaves, so I make tea from it. It’s not much flavor-wise, but it’s hot,” Austin said. Edric gratefully accepted a mug and downed half of it in one go. He let the drink warm him, the feeling creeping back into his extremities. 

“So, why does Ned need me now?” Austin pried.

Robb set his mug down. “As I said, I do not know his reasons, but the king is in Winterfell and has asked father to be the next Hand of the King. He came to me in the morning several days ago and told me to take these two and seek you out.”

Austin nodded. “Well, I expect Ned can’t say no to Robert. They are best friends after all. Though, I do wonder as to what his intentions are.”

“So you’ll come back with us?” Jon asked.

Austin sighed. “I have no choice. I promised Ned when I left that I would come if he called. I suppose he is calling.”

Edric beamed at his cousin. “Well that certainly saved us a lot of trouble. We can leave as soon as you’ve set Ingavar free.”

Austin let out a great fit of laughter as he looked at Edric like he was the dumbest man alive. “Now that’s funny. No, you idiot. Ingavar’s coming or I’m not. That bear has been my best friend for the past four years. I’m not abandoning him. I raised him, he’s coming, that’s final.”

Edric looked at Robb for support, but the Stark only held up his hands in surrender, Jon doing the same. Sighing, Edric turned back to Austin. “Very well. Do you have a place for us to sleep? It’s getting rather late.”

Austin nodded. “There are spare furs on the rack outside, but I’m afraid I haven’t made four beds. There should be plenty of furs for you to make a comfortable arrangement around the hearth, though.”

The hearth was in the center of the log cabin, the chimney directly over it. There was simple furniture scattered about, but mostly, it was empty, as Austin spent most of his time outside of it, doing the daily tasks of survival.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go feed Ingavar before bed,” Austin said, rising from his chair and stepping out the door, leaving the three others alone.

Edric looked at the other two. “He’s changed.”

“Aye. I don’t think he even wants to come back,” Robb stated.

Jon sighed. “Well, at least he’s agreed to, even though he doesn’t want to.”

Shrugging, Edric walked out of the cabin and returned with all the furs off of Austin’s rack, laying them out around the hearth. “In any case, we should get some sleep.”

* * *

Austin chuckled at how the commonfolk reeled at the sight of the enormous bear lumbering along next to him. Ingavar was more curious than dangerous. These last few weeks were eventful for him, as he’d seen no other humans beside Austin in his life.

They’d arrived in Wintertown some five days after setting out from Austin’s cabin. He rode at the back of the column, as the three men in front of him would ease the eyes of any onlookers. Austin looked like something you might see rotting in the dungeons of Winterfell, not returning as a lord. His scraggly beard saw to that.

The four men and the bear rode into the courtyard of the castle and dismounted. Immediately, Austin noted the increased number of men, some wearing Lannister armour. Edric began to immediately make his way to the hall, to present Austin to Lord Stark, but Austin stopped him.

“I need to take this beard off before I do anything,” he said before heading to Tommy. Edric looked at Robb, who shrugged, and the three of them followed Austin.

Tommy took Austin’s entire beard off, and trimmed his hair by several inches, still leaving it down his back, but making it look more presentable. “It’s good to have you back, ser,” Tommy stated as Austin stood up.

Austin smiled. “It’s good to be back.”

Austin bade Robb, Jon, and Edric follow as he headed towards the hall. He whistled at Ingavar “Come.” The grizzly huffed and fell into pace with his friend as the five of them approached the castle hall. 

Robb held up a hand for Austin to halt. “I’ll go first.”

He threw open the doors as Jon and Edric flanked him. Lord Stark was sitting at the high table, eating breakfast with the king and both their families, having just returned from hunting. Robb noted the absence of Bran and his mother, but he’d ask father about it once the matter at hand was concluded.

“Father, I’ve done as you requested. I present Ser Austin Dayne, returning to Winterfell,” Robb announced before waving Austin in.

The six and a half foot tall Dayne stood proudly as he walked into the room, flanked by his enormous bear. He stopped short of the table and bowed to all those in assembly. “Lord Stark. I return to you after all these years, as I once promised I would.”

The look of pure joy and relief from Eddard could be seen from all in attendance as he slowly rose from his chair and came around to the front of the table. “You’re looking well. And, um…”

He froze as he saw Ingavar looking up at him. Austin looked down and patted the bear on the head. “Don’t mind him, he may look scary, but he’s all fluff.”

Eddard nodded and warily approached the two, embracing Austin as he would his own son. “It’s good to have you back, my boy.”

Austin nodded. “It’s good to be back. What was so urgent you needed me for?”

Eddard released the embrace and looked Austin in the eyes. “I can’t say among present company. Get settled in, we’ll talk tonight.”

Austin nodded, accepting Eddard’s judgement, but he could tell from the Lord’s eyes that it was dangerous, and a very grave circumstance.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Austin shot up from his bed at the sharp rap on his oak door. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes and clambered out from underneath the heavy furs to answer it. Opening it revealed the elderly maester Luwin.

“Sorry to disturb you, my lord, but Lord Stark has requested your presence.”

Austin nodded lazily. “One moment, allow me to dress.”

Austin closed the door and quickly pulled on a bland tunic and threw a cloak on over his shoulders before slipping into his boots. He opened the door once again and followed the maester out of the castle, and into the Godswood.

Luwin led him to the great weirwood tree before the small pool where Lord Stark would often come and contemplate matters. This morning, Lord and Lady Stark both were already there, waiting for him.

“Sorry to wake you, Austin, but the quiet hours of the morning are the best times to have conversations such as these, away from prying ears,” Eddard apologized.

Austin shook his head. “It’s not trouble. I assume this is about the reason you called me back?”

Ned nodded gravely. “Aye. What we are about to tell you must remain between the four of us. I only tell you this because I want to fully prepare you.”

At Austin’s nod, the Lord of Winterfell continued. “Some two weeks ago, the night before my son Bran was pushed from the tower, we received a letter. This letter was from Lysa Arryn, Catelyn’s sister. She says that the last Hand, Jon Arryn, was murdered by the Lannisters. Now that Robert has made me the new Hand, we are all worried what the Lannisters will do to the two of us. This is where you come in. I know this is a heavy burden, but I wish for you to accompany me to the capital, to act as my personal bodyguard.”

Austin frowned. “As many backstabbers as there are said to be in the capital, I doubt just my sword would be able to defend you from them all. But nevertheless, I owe you a great deal, Ned. More than you know. As much as it pains me to dishonor my father’s memory like this, you have been much more of a father to me than he ever was. Of course I will accompany you to the capital. I will remain by your side. Even though I may not enjoy war anymore, I will shield you from all visible threats for as long as you wish it.”

Ned gave a small smile as thanks before pulling Austin into a hug. “I’ve only just gotten you back, and now I’m taking you to the most dangerous place in the world. I only hope I’m doing the right thing.”

Austin chuckled before looking towards Lady Catelyn. “Don’t worry, My Lady, I’ll bring Ned home in one piece.”

* * *

The castle was abuzz with activity as the host of the king prepared for departure. Lord Stark was taking fifty of his best swords, Jory as their captain to King’s Landing with him, along with Austin. Sansa and Arya were coming as well. Robb was to remain in Winterfell and rule in his father’s stead while his mother was watching over Bran, who had yet to wake from his coma.

Austin was deep in conversation with Edric, the two having conversed all morning, trying to catch up on all the things the two of them had missed, but the conversation turned serious very fast.

“No. Absolutely not. You’re not going,” Austin declared.

“And why not?” Edric demanded. “You’re my cousin, I haven’t seen you in nine years, and now you’re going to the most dangerous city in the world. I need to be there to help protect you.”

Austin chuckled. “You’re stubborn, you know that? No, you can’t come. Edric, I’m the swordsman of the family. You’re the lord. You’ve been trained for the past thirteen years by Lord Stark on how to be a lord. Robb is going to need all the help he can get up here. He’s a great fighter as well from what I’ve seen, but he lacks the courtesies and intelligence of a lord. You need to stay and help him.”

Edric sighed. He knew his cousin was right, but he didn’t have to like it. “Alright, cousin. I’ll do as you ask. Just don’t get yourself killed, yeah?”

Austin nodded before embracing his cousin. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry,” Austin said with a wink.

Edric rolled his eyes as Austin walked off to find Robb and Jon. The two of them were busy saying their farewells in the middle of the courtyard. He caught the tail end of their conversation. 

“Farewell, Snow.”

“And you, Stark.”

Austin quickly approached the before they separated. “My, how the world is changing. One of you is going to be acting Lord of the North, and the other is off to join the Night’s Watch.”

The two half-brothers smirked at Austin’s statement. “You better bring my father back in one piece, you hear?” Robb demanded.

“Aye, I second that,” Jon added.

Austin laughed.  _ Why does everyone keep saying that? It’s not as if I’m going to allow him to be beheaded, _ he thought.

“Don’t worry, lads. We might not see eachother for a very long time, so I’ll just say farewell and be on my way,” Austin said, earning nods from the brothers as he embraced them one by one.

Parting ways, Robb headed back towards the doors to the main hall, where he embraced his father. Looking stern as ever, Lord Stark released his eldest son and mounted his destrier. Jon and Austin followed suit. Benjen rode up next to them.

“Are you ready?” he asked Jon, who nodded. “Good,” he said before heading off towards the head of the column, where he was supposed to meet Tyrion Lannister. Evidently, the Imp had decided to visit the Wall. 

Austin put his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle. It was met by a guttural growl as Ingavar appeared from his stall in the stables to join him. The bear had a twinkle in its eye, as if it were ready for new adventures. Austin feared he’d planted a seed of curiosity in the bear’s mind, and that it would fester.

Chuckling at his bear’s giddiness, Austin nodded to Jon, the last farewell before he rode to join his long time friend Jory, Ingavar in tow.

“Austin,” Jory greeted.

“Jory,” Austin returned. “Sorry for not approaching you sooner, I’ve only just got back yesterday.

Jory waved a hand. “Nevermind that. I’m just glad to see you alive is all. And with a bear as a pet, no less,” the captain of the guard noted, motioning towards the immense grizzly that lumbered alongside Austin.

“He’s not a pet. Sometimes I wish he was. He’d be easier to control that way. No, he’s just a friend. He’s loyal, though,” Austin explained.

Jory nodded. “Bears generally are loyal to their own, aye.”

“Speaking of bears, how has Jorah been? I haven’t seen him since we parted after the Greyjoy Rebellion,” Austin wondered aloud. He and Jorah had become fast friends on the return trip up the Kingsroad.

Jory glanced at Austin with sad eyes. “My lord, I’m afraid that Ser Jorah...Ser Jorah’s been proclaimed a traitor to the North. He sold poachers into slavery and Lord Stark was to behead him before he fled the country.”

Austin’s head snapped towards Jory.  _ Why in seven hells, Jorah? I took you for an honorable man. _

Austin sighed. It seemed his list of friends was about to grow extremely small, especially in the city they were going to.

“It is good to see you again, Austin. It’s been too long. And you’ve certainly changed,” Jory stated.

Austin raised an eyebrow at the man. “How’s that?”

“You used to talk of nothing but revenge on your cousin, battle, glory, becoming a knight. But as soon as you realized what battle meant with the rest of us, you did what any sane man would do. You ran. And you came back better because of it,” Jory elaborated.

Now normally, someone saying Austin ran would make the Dayne angry and offended, but this was Jory. They’d shared their first battlefield together, and both came out alive. They were bonded by blood and steel. Austin simply nodded.

“Aye.”

* * *

The next few weeks were quiet. Travelling at a snail’s pace each day, simply to accommodate the queen and her demands of luxury. Her damned carriage was making this trip take twice as long. Not to mention the addition of Lord Stark’s household, which only added to the king’s original travel time. 

The days themselves were boring, full of riding. They spent the same amount of time riding as they did breaking and making camp. Such a large host and so many belongings saw to that. Austin found himself disapproving of the smug Lannisters on several occasions as they piled item after unnecessary item into the wagons after each night.

On one such occasion, Austin was sitting on the borders of the camp with Ingavar and Jory, letting the great brown bear gnaw on a slab of pork as Austin stroked the fur behind his head, where it was softest. 

There were several Lannister men in their armour attempting to disassemble one of the tents, but evidently, someone had messed up the order, so it took twice as long for them to unload it and reload it as it did to just do it right the first time.

Austin chuckled with Jory as the Lannister soldiers glanced at the two of them with contempt. Austin was fairly certain they would have said something snippy or provocative to him if it weren’t for the massive bear with bloody jaws laying down next to him. 

Ingavar was certainly useful in many situations. Austin appreciated his fat, furry friend more each day. For one, he was a fantastic forager. Whenever Austin was hungry, he would always follow the bear through the trees, miraculously finding berries or some roots or an animal carcass when he was surviving alone.

Not to mention the bear’s insane strength. Austin had rigged a harness for the bear on one occasion, and he’d dragged back over five hundred pounds of firewood to the cabin. Ingavar also intimidated the hell out of any predators or Lannisters, for that matter. No wolf was ever seen near Austin’s log cabin in the four years of Ingavar’s existence. Even Ingavar’s appearance was something to behold. When he was on all fours, he stood some five feet tall, and had huge, hulking shoulders. His size came from the fact that he doesn’t hibernate. Austin trained him to stay active all year round, only adding to the bear’s appetite and strength.

The grizzly’s face could easily be misread. He had a diagonal line across his muzzle that looked like a battle scar, but Austin knew it to be a birth mark, as he couldn’t recall a time where Ingavar was ever injured. Except that time he’d nearly been killed by the bear when he’d pulled a thorn out of his paw. 

Ingavar’s eyes were the softest things about him. You could see more curiosity and warmth in the bear’s eyes as opposed to coldness and hostility. The brown irises were easily to read, and as such, Austin often knew what the bear was thinking before he made it known.

All in all, Austin loved Ingavar, and was certain that the bear loved him as well, though Austin had no way of knowing other than the fact that he was still around.

* * *

“Hold the point up, Arya,” Austin instructed. At the moment, he was begrudgingly overseeing Arya’s ‘training’ ever since she’d asked him to. Austin couldn’t very well refuse once he learned Jon had gifted her a sword as a parting gift.

Ingavar was currently basking in the sun on the riverbank as Nymeria cautiously danced around the much larger bear. Each time she got too close, Ingavar would raise his eyelids and open his mouth, baring his teeth, causing the young direwolf to retreat. As playful and harmless as it was, it was still far more entertaining than trying to teach Arya the art of the sword.

Austin didn’t know how Ser Rodrik did this. He was two minutes into overseeing the match between Arya and the butcher’s boy, and he was already out of patience. His patience ran even thinner when Prince Joffrey and Sansa walked onto the scene.

“Arya!” Snasa cried when she realized it was her sister that was playing with sticks with a commoner.

Arya whipped around, but Mycah wasn’t paying attention and accidentally whacked her on the arm. “Ow! What are you doing here? Go away,” she demanded, as if Sansa and Joffrey would actually listen to her.

Austin rolled his eyes.  _ This is going to be a long day, _ he thought. If only he had any idea.

“Your sister?” Joffrey asked, turning back to Sansa, who nodded. Joffrey smirked and approached Mycah. “And who are you, boy?”

“Mycah, milord,” the common boy answered, dropping his wooden stave.

Austin noted that Sansa was holding a wine skin when she said “He’s the butcher’s boy.”

“He’s my friend,” Arya cut in. 

Joffrey’s smug grin didn’t leave his face during the whole conversation. “A butcher’s boy who wants to be a knight? Pick up your sword, butcher’s boy, let’s see you good you are,” the golden-haired cunt of a prince ordered, drawing his steel.

“She asked me to, milord, she asked me to,” Mycah said quickly, trying everything in his power to avoid having to fight the Prince.

Joffrey looked offended at his words, though. “I’m your prince, not your lord, and I said pick up your sword.”

Mycah glanced down at the wooden stave before back up to Joffrey. “It’s not a sword, my Prince, it’s only a stick.”

“And you’re not a knight, only a butcher’s boy,” Joffrey said, lifting the point of his sword to Micah’s cheek. “That was my lady’s sister you were hitting, did you know that?”

Austin had sat back and watched the conflict so far, hoping that they could resolve the situation amongst themselves, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen, so he decided to intervene. “No, he’s not a knight, but I am. So lay down your arms and leave in peace, Joffrey.”

Joffrey turned his head slowly towards Austin, the tip of his sword never moving from Mycah’s face. “And who are you that you dare insult me with such a request?”

“Ser Austin Dayne.”

Joffrey chuckled. “Ah, yes. The son of Ser Arthur. Though, you’re only a pale reflection compared to such a warrior. No,  _ Ser Austin Dayne _ , I think I’ll do whatever I like.”

With that, Joffrey began to drag the sword point down Mycah’s cheek, leaving a thin red gash that began to bleed down the boy’s face. 

“Stop it!” said Arya forcefully, only to be quieted by Sansa. “Arya, stay out of this!”

Sansa’s blind devotion to such an idiot and torturer of a prince was unnerving to say the least. In any case, Austin would have to find a peaceful resolution to the situation, and soon, before more blood was shed.

Suddenly, without warning, Arya swung and hit Joffrey in the back with her wooden stave. The prince stumbled and whirled around, swinging his sword at Arya. Thankfully, she was too quick, and ducked under the blow as Mycah ran off. Cursing under his breath, Austin rushed towards the two of them and grabbed Joffrey by the shoulder.

When the prince tried to wing on him as well, Austin grabbed the wrist of Joffrey’s sword arm, stopping the blade in its tracks before angrily backhanding the royal prick. Before Joffrey had a chance to recover, Nymeria suddenly leapt at him and clamper her jaws around his wrist. Arya had to pry her wolf off of Joffrey as Austin picked up Joffrey’s sword. Arya ran off with Nymeria and disappeared into the woods.

Hauling the prince up and ignoring his protests, Austin whistled for Ingavar and made his way back to the main camp at the inn, Sansa coming along behind.

* * *

After delivering the sniveling coward of a prince into his mother’s hands, Austin joined the search for the missing Stark girl. Currently, he was with Lord Stark. The search lasted well into the night, and required the light of torches to continue it. Lord Stark’s calls of his daughter’s name seemed to have no effect, as she still had not revealed herself to them.

Suddenly, Jory appeared through the treeline. “My lord!” he called to Lord Stark before dismounting. “They found her. She’s unharmed.”

“Where is she?” Eddard demanded.

“She’s been taken directly before the king,” Jory informed.

Austin could literally feel the fury dripping off of Lord Stark at the news that his daughter had not been brought to him first. “Who took her?”

“The Lannisters found her.”

“Right, get back,” Ned ordered to Jory and Austin, as he was already on the move.

“The queen ordered them to bring her straight to him,” Jor finished as Lord Stark hurried back through the trees.

“Back! Back to the inn!”

* * *

Austin followed Ned as he shoved his way through the crowds of disrespectful Lannister soldiers who refused to move for a lord. Austin noticed the sneers they gave the two of them, but Austin was a good four inches taller than the tallest of them. He stared a few in the eye and they backed down quickly. Austin smirked in triumph before moving to flank Lord Stark. Evidently, he had a reputation, he didn’t know what for, though.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Arya ranted.

“Are you hurt?” Ned asked with care, trying to mask his anger before he let it consume him. “It’s alright.”

He turned towards King Robert and Queen Cersei. “What is the meaning of this? Why was my daughter not brought to me at once?” Ned demanded, practically shouting at Robert.

“How dare you speak to your king in that manner?” Cersei asked.

Robert turned his head towards her. “Quiet, woman.” He turned back to Ned. “Sorry, Ned, I never meant to frighten the girl, but we need to get this business done quickly.”

“Your girl and that butcher’s boy attacked my son. That animal of hers nearly tore his arm off,” Cersei said in her shrewd manner.

Arya was having none of it, though. “That’s not true! She just bit him a little.”

Austin had to hide a smile at that, noticing King Robert’s amused smirk as well. “He was hurting Mycah,” Arya declared.

“Joff told us what happened. You and that boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him and the knight, Ser Austin allowed it to happen,” Queen Cersei said, sounding sure of herself.

Austin scoffed, quite loudly in fact. Queen Cersei looked at him with cold eyes, as if he were challenging her power. “You disagree?”

Austin nodded. “Aye, I disagree. Joffrey’s entitled self thought he could bully a commoner by running a sword across his cheek. When Joffrey tried to attack Arya, I intervened and knocked his blonde-headed ass to the ground as Arya and Nymeria ran off to save themselves.”

“That’s not what happened! They all attacked me with their beasts and beat me!” Joffrey said, but Austin could hear the lies dripping out of his mouth.

“Liar!” shouted Arya, countered by Joffrey’s “Shut up!”

“ENOUGH!” Robert Baratheon intervened. Sometimes Austin was very grateful for such a battlefield voice that could silence any crowd and command attention. “Joffrey tells me one thing, Ser Austin tells me another. Seven hells, what am I to make of this? Where’s your other daughter, Ned?”

“In bed, asleep,” answered a very confused Eddard.

Apparently, Queen Cersei, ever the manipulator, had one last card to play. “She’s not. Sansa, come here, darling.”

All head turned to the back of the room, where Sansa was escorted down by Jory. When she came before the king, Robert spoke up. “Now, child. Tell me what happened. Tell it all, and tell it true. It’s a great crime to lie to a king.”

Sansa glanced from her father, to Joffrey, then back to the king. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. Everything happened so fast. I didn’t see.”

“Liar!” Arya exclaimed as she attacked Sansa in anger. Lord Stark broke it up. 

That gave Cersei all the ammunition she needed to hold the weight over Ned’s head. “She’s as wild as that animal of hers. I want her punished.”

“What would you have me do? Whip her through the streets? Damn it, children fight. It’s over,” Robert declared, but the argument was far from over.

Cersei looked down at her husband with disdain. “Joffrey will bear these scars for the rest of his life.”

Robert shifted his piercing gaze to his lanky idiot of a son. “Good. Maybe he’ll finally get some scars on him. You coddle him too much in the training yard for him to get any real ones,” Robert stated, earning laughs from a few assembled, mostly Northmen, along with Jory and Austin.

“Ned, see to it that your daughter is disciplined. I’ll do the same with my son,” Robert said, seemingly putting an end to the matter. 

Lord Stark visibly relaxed as he moved to take his daughters to bed. Austin shoved a few Lannister men out of the way to make way for them as the king stood up.

“And what of the direwolf?” Cersei began. “What of the beast that savaged your son?”

_ Fucking cunt of a woman, _ Austin thought. He didn’t usually think this way about many people, but the queen, her brother, and her son were at the top of his list. 

“I’d forgot the damned wolf,” Robert said, turning to one of his Lannister captains.

The man shook his head. “We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace.”

“No?” Robert asked. “So be it,” he said, nodding to Ned.

“We have another wolf.”

Austin’s blood froze at that. This bitch was really trying to get an innocent animal slaughtered all because she couldn’t admit her son’s idiocy.

Robert turned to her slowly. “As you will,” he said quietly.

Ned stopped him. “You can’t mean it.”

“A direwolf’s no pet. Get her a dog, she’ll be happier for it,” Robert answered before moving to exit the room.

Sansa, ever the dense, slow learner, took a while to realize what the queen meant. “He doesn’t mean Lady, does he? No, no, not Lady! Lady didn’t bite anyone, she’s good!”

“I backhanded Joffrey like the sniveling little boy he is, yet you would not punish me? You would rather slaughter an innocent?” Austin demanded.

Queen Cersei simply smirked, reveling in her victory. “You are of a noble house. I cannot command Ser Ilyn to snip your neck, not while you are under Lord Stark’s protection.”

Ned turned to the retreating Robert. “Is this your command? Your Grace?”

When Robert didn’t answer, Cersei turned to the Lannister captain. “Where is the beast?”

“Chained up, outside Your Grace.”

“Ser Ilyn, do me the honor,” she commanded the mute. 

He moved towards the door, only to be roughly shoved back by Lord Stark. Some of the Lannister men put their hands on their swords at the showing of aggression from the Northern Lord. Austin did the same and shook his head at the men, silently telling them not to even try.

“Jory, take the girls to their rooms. If it must be done, then I will do it myself,” Ned declared, facing the queen with all the defiance he could muster.

“Is this some trick?” Cersei asked. Austin rolled his eyes at that.

_ Typical for a snake such as Cersei not to understand the meaning of honor, _ he thought.

“The wolf is of the North. She deserves better than a southern mute for a butcher,” Ned said coldly. Slowly, the Lord of Winterfell turned on his heel and nodded to Jory, who took the girls upstairs. Austin followed Lord Stark from the hall, headed towards the small stable where Lady was chained up.

On their way, they passed the Hound, leading his horse by the reins, something bloody slung over his saddle. Taking notice of what it was, Austin cursed under his breath. “The butcher’s boy,” he said.

“You rode him down?” Lord Stark asked incredulously.

As the Hound continued his path, the only answer they heard was “He ran. Not very fast.”

Out of respect for the North’s traditions, Austin waited around the corner from the stable, choosing not to witness the execution of such a beautiful animal. He heard the dull rasp of a blade, followed by whimpering and a sharp yelp that sent chills down Austin’s spine.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The heat was the first thing that Austin noticed about the capital. He was sweating through his leather tunic in the beating sun. The second thing he noticed were the once pristine white walls, now covered in shit stains.

_ Great, it’s hot, and it smells like shit, _ Austin thought.

The ride through the streets of King’s Landing was fairly uneventful, moving ever closer to the Red Keep. The enormous castle atop Aegon’s hill was bloodred in the sunlight, and looked imposing. Austin rode through its gates alongside Lord Stark and Jory, dismounting as a herald approached them.

He quickly approached Eddar. “Welcome, Lord Stark. Grand Maester Pycelle has called a meeting of the Small Council. The honor of your presence is requested.”

Ned turned back to Septa Mordane. “Get the girls settled in. I’ll be back in time for supper. Jory, go with them. Austin, with me.”

“Aye, my lord,” Austin nodded, dismounting and turning to Jory. “Can you feed him?” he asked, meaning Ingavar. When Jory nodded, Austin bent down to look the grizzly in the eye. “Him. Follow.”

The bear huffed in acknowledgement before licking Austin in the face. The Dayne smiled and scratched Ingavar behind the ears. “Alright, that’s enough of that.”

Austin rose to his full height and moved to stand next to Lord Stark. The herald looked the two of them up and down. “If you’d like to change into something more appropriate.”

Austin stared at the man with a blank look on his face, sensing Ned was doing the same. The Hand simply removed his riding gloves and nodded to the herald, who looked displeased, but led on anyways.

The herald led them into the throne room and gave them directions to the Small Council chamber before taking his leave. Austin noted that Ser Jaime was seated on the steps before the Iron Throne. Taking a moment to study his surroundings before the smug Lannister made conversation, Austin rotated his head. The throne room was massive, and full of tiles and Baratheon banners, lit by several windows high in the air. The Iron Throne itself looked like a peacock with swords instead of feathers.

“Thank the gods you’re here, Stark. About time we had some stern, Northern leadership,” Jaime said, rising to approach Ned. Austin flanked him, ever loyal to his surrogate father.

Ned nodded. “Glad to see you’re protecting the throne.”

Austin couldn’t tell if that was a jab at Jaime because of his Kingslayer status, or whether Lord Stark was actually serious.

“Sturdy old thing. How many king’s asses have polished it, I wonder? Um, what’s the line? The King shits and the Hand wipes,” Jaime said, raising his chin in an arrogant manner.

Lord Stark wasn’t taking the bait, though. “Very handsome armour,” he said, referring to the golden armour of Robert’s Kingsguard. “Not a scratch on it.”

“I know,” Jaime said proudly. “People have been swinging at me for years, but they always seem to miss.”

“You’ve chosen your opponents wisely, then.”

“I have a knack for it,” Jaime said, almost threateningly.

Austin spoke up. “Watch it, Lannister. Don’t threaten my lord.”

Jaime turned his head towards Austin. “Ah, yes. The famous Ser Austin Dayne. Gets knighted by Lord Eddard Stark then disappears into the wilderness to fuck bears. I even heard that bear you have with you is your lover.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of you, as well, Ser Jaime. The knight of the Kingsguard whose greatest accomplishment was stabbing an unarmed man in the back,” Austin fired back, causing the Lannister to bristle in anger.

Ned held up a hand. “That’s enough.”

Jaime smirked before turning back to the Northern lord. “It must be strange for you, coming into this room. I was standing right here when it happened. He was very brave, your brother. Your father, too. They didn’t deserve to die like that. Nobody deserves to die like that.”

Ned scoffed and shared a glance with Austin before staring Jaime in the eyes. “I didn’t ride down to the capital to trade words with an oathbreaker about how my family died. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

Austin sighed inwardly.  _ One thing’s for certain, I’m making enemies, and fast. _

* * *

Edric was eating his supper when he was disturbed by Robb, who bade him follow. When Edric noticed he was being led towards the Godswood, he knew that this was serious.

“What is it?” Edric asked, looking into Robb’s eyes, noticing the conflict and grief within them.

Robb took a deep breath to steady himself. “You cannot breathe a word of this to anyone. I mean anyone.”

Edric nodded. “I swear on my honor.”

“During that fire last week, an assassin snuck into Bran’s room and tried to murder him. Luckily Summer was there, or else I’d be out a mother and a brother. In any case, mother, Rodrik, Theon, Luwin and I all came to the conclusion that Bran didn’t fall from the broken tower. We think he was thrown. An attempt on his life has been made twice. Mother left with Rodrik to warn my father about the Lannisters.”

Edric sat in silence, soaking in the words that Robb was saying. “What do you mean? You think the Lannisters are conspiring against the throne and trying to murder your brother? Why?”

Robb shrugged. “We have no clue. But we need to find out, and quickly.”

“Aye, we do. With this news, I can already feel the winds of war stirring.”

* * *

As Ned and Austin exited the Small Council chamber, they were halted by Grand Maester Pycelle’s wheezing voice. “Lord Stark! I meant to give you this earlier. A raven from Winterfell this morning.”

Ned took it and nodded to Pycelle, dismissing him before unrolling the scroll. He glanced up at Austin with surprise. “Bran’s woken up.”

Austin grinned. “He’s got the Northern fight in him,” he said as he took the letter from Ned.

“Good news?”

Austin rolled his eyes at the shrewd voice of Lord Baelish. “Perhaps you’d like to share it with your wife.”

Ned looked up in confusion. “My wife’s in Winterfell.”

“Is she?” Baelish asked before brushing past Lord Stark. Austin looked at the man in confusion before turning to Lord Stark. Ned shrugged and waved his hand, signaling to follow the man. Baelish led them towards the stables, where they saddled their horses and followed the shrewd man.

“I don’t trust him,” Austin said. 

Lord Stark nodded. “Neither do I. Keep an eye on him. And the other members of the Council. I can count the number of people I trust in this city on one hand.”

The three of them stopped and tied their horses up. Baelish walked towards a stone building, spreading his arms out as if he were presenting a palace, but all Austin saw was a brothel.

“I thought that she’d be safest in here. One of several such establishments I own,” Baelish said proudly before Lord Stark grasped him by the neck and slammed him against the stone wall.

“You’re a funny man. A very funny man.”

Austin could tell that even Lord Stark was enjoying this. He figured that Baelish had brought him to a brothel to insult him, as Lord Stark was famous for his honor. Jon served as a reminder that no man was perfect, though. 

Suddenly, a face with red hair tied back in a braid popped her head over the balcony. “Ned!” Lady Catelyn called.

Lord Stark quickly released Baelish, leaving him with Austin for a few seconds. “Oh, the Starks. Quick tempers, slow minds.”

Austin chuckled. “Their minds aren’t as slow as you think they are. Be grateful I wasn’t Lord Stark, or I might have used a dagger on you.”

Baelish gave Austin a glare of utter discontempt before following the white haired Dayne into the brothel. The two of them walked in to see Ned and Cat embracing, happy to be together once again.

“The mere suggestion that the queen’s brother tried to kill your boy would be considered treason,” Baelish began.

“We have proof. We have the blade,” Catelyn pointed out.

Baelish shook his head. “Which Lord Tyrion would say was stolen from him. The only man who could say otherwise has no throat, thanks to your boy’s wolf.”

Catelyn turned to look a wary Lord Stark in the eye as Austin bit down on an apple. “Petyr has promised to help us find the truth. He’s like a little brother to me, Ned. He would never betray my trust.”

Austin paused at that.  _ She’s too overly trusting of this man. She hasn’t seen him in a decade, _ Austin though.

“I’ll try to keep you alive, for her sake. A fool’s task, admittedly, but I’ve never been able to refuse your wife anything,” Baelish promised.

Austin cleared his throat. “Except that the job of keeping him alive belongs to me.”

Baelish nodded. “Yes, it does. To physical threats. I, on the other hand, have to guard him against political threats and plots by the Lannisters.”

Austin shrugged, a sign of careless acceptance. Catelyn turned back to Baelish. “I won’t forget this. You’re a true friend.”

Baelish smiled grimly. “Don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to maintain.”

Austin stayed with the two Stark heads as they planned their attempts at proving that Tyrion was the culprit. They talked through the entirety of the night, and it was just before dawn by the time they stepped outside. Austin allowed them their moment, staying in the shadows, watching over the family that had done the same for him. Austin was surprised to see Ser Rodrik, but he guessed that it made sense. The old warrior was too stubborn to let Lady Stark travel alone. Austin raised a hand in both greeting and farewell to the warrior, who copied the gesture.

Austin smiled as he saw the two Starks laughing amongst themselves, and waited for Lord Stark. Once Lady Catelyn had ridden off with Rodrik, Austin mounted back up.

“We’re going to die in this city, aren’t we?” Austin chuckled.

Lord Stark looked at the Dayne with serious eyes. “Aye, we might.”

* * *

Edric studied Robb from across the table. The two of them were playing chess, a game to sharpen the mind for strategy. Robb placed his hand on his bishop and moved it to take Edric’s rook. But that was exactly what Edric needed. He used his knight to capture the bishop of Robb’s, effectively checkmating him.

“That’s horseshit,” Robb complained.

Edric simply chuckled. “You were too aggressive, Robb. You need to plan your moves out more. Do you know why Tywin Lannister is so feared? He out thinks his opponents. Just when you think you’ve got him right where you want him, he surprises you with the fact that he’s already thought five moves ahead.”

Robb nodded, though Edric wasn’t sure if the young Stark actually understood at all. 

“Look at me, Robb,” Edric pleaded, meeting the eyes of the young wolf. “If what you predict comes to pass, and we go to war with the Lannisters, you need to be able to advise your father on such things. He is but one man, he cannot think of every possibility himself.

Robb nodded sullenly before helping Edric set the pieces back up.

* * *

Austin needed some alone time. Ever since he’d returned from his time in the wilderness, he’d had a rather short string of patience when it came to other people. There was but one living creature that could keep him company at times like these.

As Austin strolled down the streets of the city of King’s Landing, he was constantly bombarded by sensations and smells and sights. Chief amongst them was the smell of shit. It seemed like it had seeped into the ground underneath the city, and would forever be a part of it. 

Fortunately, as the Dragonpit was the most open area in the entire city, filled with vegetation and trees, he found it easier to breathe as he searched for his friend. The simple, large area of the city had once housed Balerion the Black Dread. Now, the most dangerous creature it contained was a bear by the name Ingavar.

Austin found the grizzly under a tree, eating berries that he’d foraged from some of the bushes. Austin grinned at the sight of his friend as the bear rose to its feet giddily, happy to see its Dayne friend. When Ingavar began sniffing at Austin’s clothes, he laughed and pulled the pork leg from behind his back, tossing it on the ground. He let Ingavar pounce on it as he sat down under the tree and watched.

When the bear was done eating, he lumbered back over to Austin and lay down, placing his head in the Dayne’s lap. Austin shook his head in amusement as he scratched the animal’s ears. 

_ This city may be full of hateful people that haven’t an ounce of love in them, but this right here is pure. My best friend. _


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

“I must say, I received a slightly warmer welcome on my last visit,” Tyrion Lannister, the Imp, complained.

Edric was seated at the high table with maester Luwin and Robb, the latter in the middle, as he was the Lord of Winterfell. The Dayne had already had enough of Tyrion Lannister, and the man had only said one sentence.

Robb nodded to the man in black. Yoren, he’d said his name was. “Any man of the Night’s Watch is welcome at Winterfell.”

Tyrion glanced at Yoren before turning his smug gaze back to Robb. “Any man of the Night’s Watch, but not I, eh boy?”

“I’m not your boy, Lannister,” Robb growled between clenched teeth. “I’m Lord of Winterfell while my father is away.”

Tyrion smirked. “Then you might learn a lord’s courtesy.”

Edric chose this time to cut in and ease tensions. “Robb does know a lord’s courtesy. Though I must say, everyone in this castle has been wary of visitors ever since the two assassination attempts on Brandon Stark.”

As if on queue, the half-giant Hodor entered, carrying the crippled Bran in his arms like a baby. “So it’s true,” Tyrion remarked. “Hello, Bran. Do you remember anything about what happened?”

“He has no memory of that day,” Luwin spoke up.

Tyrion’s eyes flicked around the room before settling back on Bran. “Curious.”

“Why are you here?” Robb demanded.

Tyrion all but ignored him, causing Robb to bristle even more. Edric placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “Would your charming companion be so kind as to kneel, my neck is beginning to hurt,” Tyrion said lightly.

Hodor did as Bran said, bringing the little lord down to Tyrion’s level. “Do you like to ride, Bran?” Tyrion asked.

“Yes. Well, I mean I did like to,” the boy admitted.

Luwin was becoming irritated by the little man as well, it seemed. “He has lost the use of his legs.”

“What of it?” Tyrion shot back. “With the right horse and saddle, even a cripple can ride.”

“I’m not a cripple,” Bran stated defiantly.

Tyrin smiled. “Then I’m not a dwarf! My father will rejoice to hear it. I have a gift for you,” Tyrion declared, producing a scroll from beneath his fur cloak.

Edric couldn’t see what was on it, but Bran seemed quite intrigued by whatever it was. “Give that to your saddler. He’ll provide the rest.”

Tyrion turned towards the high table. “You must shape the horse to the rider. Start with a yearling and teach it to respond to the reins and to the boy’s voice.”

Edric nodded. Ever since he’d arrived in Winterfell, he’d poured himself into riding. Austin had a sword and a bear, Edric had the horse and the lord. Edric was a master rider already, and wasn’t half bad at training horses, either. “Aye, that can be done. I’ll train it myself.”

“Will I really be able to ride?” Bran asked in wonder.

Tyrion nodded. “You will. On horseback, you’ll be as tall as any of them.”

“Is this some kind of trick? Why do you want to help him?” Robb asked, ever suspicious of the Lannisters. 

Tyrion turned to Robb with the most sincere look he’d ever seen. “I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things.”

Robb seemed to have accepted the Lannister’s actions. “You’ve done my brother a kindness. The hospitality of Winterfell is yours.”

Tyrion scoffed. “Spare me your false courtesies,  _ Lord Stark _ . There’s a brothel outside your walls. There, I’ll find a bed and both of us can sleep easier.”

The moment Lord Tyrion had left, and Hodor had carried Bran off, Edric turned to the two seated next to him. “The two of you were extremely rude.”

Robb looked at Edric like he was an idiot. “Their family tried to murder my brother, yet you expect me to lay in bed with them?”

Edric massaged his temples. “Save me from the stubbornness of the Starks. No, I want you to hide your true feelings. You can’t let them slip through. Remember, the Lannisters don’t have any idea that we’re on to them, but if you keep behaving like that in front of them, they will pretty quick.”

That shut Robb up quickly. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Edric chuckled. “Thank the gods I’m here, or you may have accidentally imprisoned that dwarf.”

* * *

“It’s the Hand’s Tournament that’s causing all this trouble, my lords,” explained Janor Slynt, the commander of the Goldcloaks, the City Watch of King’s Landing.

Lord Stark had his face buried in his hands with frustration and exhaustion. “The King’s tournament. I assure you, the Hand wants no part of it.”

“Call it what you will, Lord Stark, ser. The city is packed with people and more flooding in every day. Last night we had a tavern riot, a brothel fire, three stabbings, and a drunken horse race down the Street of Sisters.”

Austin’s eyes rose in surprise. He was overseeing the Council from his place behind Lord Stark’s seat. Varys shook his head in disgust at the reports of such behavior in their city. “Dreadful.”

“If you can’t keep the King’s peace, perhaps the City Watch should be commanded by someone who can,” Renly offered.

Janos Slynt blanched at that. “I need more men.”

“You’ll get fifty,” Lord Stark said. “Lord Baelish will see it paid for.”

“I will?”

“You found money for a champion’s purse, you can find money to keep the peace,” Ned stressed. “I’ll also give you twenty of my household guard, until the crowds have left.”

Janos nodded. “Thank you, My Lord Hand, ser. They will be put to good use.”

“The sooner this is over, the better,” Lord Stark commented.

Austin couldn’t help but agree. Even though he was set to fight in the melee, he could just as easily withdraw. If he won, he would gift the money back to the crown.

“The realm prospers from such events, my lord. They give the great a chance at glory, and the lowly a respite from their woes,” Varys explained.

Baelish chuckled. “And every inn in the city is full, and the whores are walking bow-legged.”

“I’m sure the tourney puts coins in many a pocket. Now, if there’s nothing else, my lords?”

Lord Stark hung back as the lords left. He turned to Austin and jerked his head towards the exit. Austin nodded and took his leave, heading back through the Red Keep towards the guards’ quarters. 

There, he found Jory sitting and playing dice, as he was off shift. “Ah, Austin. Sit down, join us.”

Austin chuckled. “I’d enjoy these next few hours, boys. Lord Stark just gifted twenty of you to the City Watch until the end of the tournament.”

The rest of the guardsmen groaned, except Jory. The captain knew full well that his place was secure. “What of you? Are you fighting in the melee?”

Austin nodded. “Aye. Figured it’s a good way to hone my skills after nine years in self-imposed exile. Anyways, all of you are so easy to beat I can’t very well sit around here all day, I’d get as fat as King Robert.” The guards all laughed at that, knowing full well that Austin was their superior both in rank and skill. 

Several minutes later, Lord Stark ducked his head in. “Austin, with me.”

Austin shrugged at Jory before following Ned out of the barracks. They strolled through the gardens, headed towards the Tower of the Hand when Lord Baelish appeared behind them.

“I hear you’re reading a boring book.”

Ned rolled his eyes. “Pycelle talks too much.”

“Oh, he never stops,” Baelish agreed. “Do you know Ser Hugh of the Vale?”

Ned shook his head, as well as Austin. “Not surprising. Until recently, he was only a squire. Jon Arryn’s squire. He was knighted almost immediately after his master’s untimely death.”

“Knighted for what?” Austin asked.

Baelish smirked, not giving Ned an answer.

“Why are you telling us this?”

“I promised Cat that I’d help you,” Baelish answered matter-of-factly.

“Where is Ser Hugh?” Lord Stark asked. “I’ll speak to him.”

“A singularly bad idea,” Baelish warned. “Do you see that boy there? One of Varys’ little birds. The spider has taken a great interest in your comings and goings. Now look, there. That one belongs to the queen,” Baelish said, referring to an elderly gardener who watched them pass.

“And do you see that septa pretending to read her book?”

“Varys or the queen?” Ned asked.

Baelish smirked and shook his head. “No. She’s one of mine. Is there someone in your service whom you trust completely?”

Lord Stark stopped. “Yes.”

“The wiser answer was no, my lord.”

Austin was taken aback. “I’m offended, Littlefinger.”

“He definitely cannot send you. You strut around the castle as if you were a rooster on a leash behind him. No, get a message to this paragon of yours, besides Ser Austin, of course. Send him to question Ser Hugh,” Baelish suggested. “After that you might want him to visit a certain armourer in the city. He lives in a large house at the top of the Street of Steel.”

“Why?” Ned asked simply.

Baelish shrugged. “I have my observers as I said. It’s possible they saw Lord Arryn visit this armourer several times in the weeks before his death.”

Ned looked down, grateful at Baelish’s council. “Lord Baelish, perhaps I was wrong to distrust you.”

Littlefinger tilted his head. “Distrusting me was the wisest thing you’ve done since you climbed off your horse,” he said before turning on his heel and leaving the two lords in the gardens.

“Alright, I’ll send Jory to Ser Hugh. In the meantime, you and I are going to the Street of Steel,” Ned ordered.

Austin held up a hand. “Shouldn’t we send Jory to do both?”

Ned shook his head. “No, Jory can question someone easily enough, but he wouldn’t know what to look for. Hell, even we don’t know what to look for.”

Austin nodded. “As you will, my lord.”

* * *

“Ned, we shouldn’t be seen up here. Littlefinger even said he’s got spies here. We don’t know how many others do as well,” Austin advised.

Ned shook his head. “Let them look.”

Austin sighed. Sometimes Starks could be so stubborn they made him want to pull his hair out. He minded the horses for several minutes, not trusting the citizens of this shit city with anything.

Lord Stark emerged several minutes later, looking visibly shaken. “Find anything?” Austin asked.

Ned nodded. “Aye. King Robert’s bastard son. A spitting image if I might add.”

Austin’s eyebrows rose in surprise before he mounted back up with Ned and the two rode back to the Red Keep, where they found Jory waiting for them. “What news?” Ned asked.

“He said he’d be glad to talk to the Hand himself. He’s a knight, you see,” Jory explained his failure.

Ned scoffed. “A knight. They strut around like roosters down here. Even the ones who’ve never seen an arrow coming their way.”

That sent chills down Austin’s spine, for he had seen arrows coming his way. 

“Austin,” Ned said.

“Aye?” 

“Head down to the tourney yard. You deserve a break before the melee.”

Austin bowed his head in thanks before wheeling his horse around and heading down the streets.

* * *

“I’ve been sitting here for days! Start the damn joust before I piss meself,” Robert yelled from his seat atop the podium. Austin sat behind Septa Mordane, Sansa, and Arya to watch Ser Hugh, the mysterious up-jumped squire take on the Mountain.

The Mountain terrified Austin, as he was eight feet tall, strong as an ox, and as savage as a starved wolf. The man had a horse nearly twice the size of Ser Hugh’s to accommodate his insane weight.

The two riders approached the podium and bowed to Robert. “Yes, enough of the bloody pomp, have at him!”

The two riders separated and rode to their respective ends of the pitch, taking their lances from their squires. At the trumpets, they charged in unison. Right away, Austin noticed a distinct difference between the two. Ser Gregor’s lance was straight and true, while Ser Hugh was bouncing around in the saddle, his lance waving around like a dandelion in the wind.

They made first contact, neither breaking a lance. They whipped around and charged once again. Austin could feel a sense of impending doom coming on, and sure enough, Ser Gregor’s lance shattered on Ser Hugh’s shield, lodging a large shard in the newly anointed knight’s windpipe. The knight died choking on his own blood.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

It was a grim, gloomy morning as Austin accompanied Lord Stark into the tent of the Silent Sisters. Upon observation, Austin noticed that they were stitching Ser Hugh’s neck back together, mending the hole that was left there by the Mountain’s lance.

“Does Ser Hugh have any family in the capital?” Ned asked Ser Barristan, who was standing guard in the tent.

The old knight shook his head. “No. I stood vigil for him myself last night. He had no one else.”

Lord Stark glanced around the tent, eyes resting on Ser Hugh’s breastplate. Austin shared a glance with the Lord before he turned back to Barristan. “He’d never worn this armour before.”

“Bad luck for him, going against the Mountain,” Barristan stated.

Austin noticed that Lord Stark was learning. The Northern lord had immediately become suspicious of present circumstances. “Who determines the draw?”

“All the knights draw straws. Lord Stark.”

“But who holds the straws?” Austin muttered, earning an agreeable look from Ned.

“You’ve done good work, sisters,” the Hand said before turning out of the tent. Austin followed, and the two waited as Ser Barristan’s squire reattached his white cloak. “Life is strange,” Ser Barristan began. “Not so many years ago, we fought as enemies at the Trident.”

Lord Stark nodded. “I’m glad we never met on the field, Ser Barristan. As is my wife. I don’t think the widow’s life would suit her.”

Austin chuckled at that. Barristan shook his head, though. “You’re too modest. I’ve seen you cut down a dozen great knights.”

“My father once told me you were the best he’d ever seen. I never knew the man to be wrong about matters of combat,” Lord Stark chuckled.

Ser Barristan nodded. “He was a fine man, your father. What the Mad King did to him was a terrible crime.”

“And that lad,” Lord Stark changed the subject very quickly. “He was a squire until a few months ago. How could he afford a new suit of armour?”

“Perhaps Lord Arryn left him some money?” Barristan offered. 

Austin shook his head. “I doubt it. Lord Arryn wouldn’t leave money to a lad like that when the crown is six million in debt.”

Barristan shrugged. “I hear the king wants to fight in the melee today.”

“Yes, that will never happen.”

Barristan chuckled. “Robert tends to do what he wants.”

“If the king got what he wanted all the time, we’d still be fighting a damned rebellion,” Lord Stark said finally, separating from Ser Barristan. Austin nodded to the old knight, a sign of respect. The Lord Commander mimicked the action before heading back towards the Red Keep.

“Austin. Go ready yourself. There’s no need for you to tire yourself out following me across the city. The melee takes place just after the final joust,” Ned said.

Austin thanked the man before bidding him farewell. He headed towards his tent, where he began to change into his battle armour. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to wear the protective gear.

He pulled on the thick, leather, long-sleeved shirt, as well as trousers. He pulled the faulds down over his thighs so that when he strapped on his breastplate the falling star crossed by a sword could be seen in the middle of his chest. Austin then reached down and strapped his sword belt on, this time adding a dagger next to it. 

There were said to be forty competitors in the melee, and it would be fought completely on foot, all at once. Austin relished the opportunity, as it would give him a chance to sharpen his skills against more than one opponent at a time. 

Austin walked up to a nearby post, where a list of the competitors was posted. Reading carefully, Austin saw several names he recognized.

_ Thoros of Myr _

_ Lord Beric Dondarrion _

_ Jory Cassel _

_ Lord Yohn Royce _

_ Ser Robar Royce _

_ Ser Andar Royce _

_ Ser Loras Tyrell _

_ Ser Jaime Lannister _

_ Ser Barristan Selmy _

_ Ser Meryn Trant _

_ Ser Mandon Moore _

_ Ser Arys Oakheart _

_ Ser Boros Blount _

_ Ser Aron Santagar _

_ Lord Jason Mallister _

_ Sandor Clegane _

_ Ser Balon Swann _

_ Ser Horas Redwyne _

_ Martyn Rivers _

_ Ser Hobber Redwyne _

As well as a couple dozen others that Austin didn’t recognize.

_ This is going to be a tougher fight than the damned Greyjoy Rebellion, _ Austin complained. The Kingsguard alone would be a challenge, not to mention Loras Tyrell, the Royce’s, and the Hound. Thoros of Myr had his flaming sword, so Austin made a mental note to steer clear of him. Austin just thanked the gods the damned Mountain wasn’t participating. 

Austin turned back towards the jousting pitch to watch the final round from behind the railing. He watched as Loras Tyrell handed Sansa a rose before wheeling his horse and placing his garden-patterned helmet on his head. His opponent, the Mountain’s horse was acting strange.

_ Loras’ mare is in heat! _ Austin realized as the two began their first charge. 

As it turned out, only one tilt was needed, as Loras shattered his lance on the Mountain’s shield, and the huge man toppled from the saddle. Getting to his feet angrily, he called for his sword, which he used to nearly decapitate his horse before turning on Ser Loras.

The Knight of the Flowers toppled from his saddle as the Mountain began raining blows down on his shield. Luckily for Loras, the Hound intervened, beginning a savage duel with his brother, which Austin thought may have gone to the death if Robert hadn’t ordered a stop to it. Austin allowed a small smile, a rarity nowadays, to etch his features when Ser Loras proclaimed the Hound as the champion. 

“Austin!”

The Dayne turned his head to see Jory walking towards him at a brisk pace. “Ah, Jory.”

“Well, here we are. How do you feel about an alliance at the beginning? I don’t fancy my chances against the likes of these knights and lords,” Jory asked.

Austin chuckled. “You doubt yourself too much. I’m sure you’ll do fine. But aye, if I see you early on, I’ll ignore you until it’s just the two of us.”

Jory visibly relaxed. “I’ll leave all the tough ones to you.”

Austin held out his arm and shook Jory’s. “It’s a deal.”

* * *

Austin hated maces. As the melee was not supposed to be a fight to the death, each participant was issued a blunt sword or mace. You forfeit if you are knocked over and forced to yield. 

Thus, Austin found himself issued a small, one-handed mace and a shield. Jory got lucky next to him, having a sword. Each man started evenly spaced on the edges of the large, circular arena. It was simple, and had wooden seating for spectators built around it, on raised platforms. On Austin’s left was Jory, and on his right, an unknown hedge knight in a checkered surcoat.

Directly across from Austin was Ser Jaime Lannister, and to the far right was Ser Barristan. The rest of the Kingsguard was spread out between the other spots, easily distinguished by their golden armour. They’d removed their white cloaks for the fight, as they would only get in the way otherwise. The three competitors Austin was most wary of, though, were Bronze Yohn Royce, the Hound, and Ser Barristan.

The sheer size and strength of the former two was astonishing, and the skill and experience of Ser Barristan was alarming. Austin placed his helmet on his head. It was a simple design, much like the helmets of the Knights of the Vale, but with a nose guard shaped like the blade of a sword. On the forehead of the helmet, it had the symbol of House Dayne, matching his breastplate. 

Austin dropped into his stance, nodding to Jory, when the first trumpet sounded, signaling to begin. He immediately turned right and rushed the hedge knight. Austin dropped into a roll before smashing the mace into the man’s stomach and uppercutting him with the shield, sending the man sprawling. The hedge knight dropped to the mud and Austin held the mace out towards the man, who yielded.

Austin tossed the mace aside and confiscated the man’s sword before continuing. Just as he’d turned, he saw an enormous form, covered in bronze armour, rushing at him. Bronze Yohn lowered his shoulder and sent Austin flying, him hitting the wood of the wall of the arena. 

Austin quickly scrambled to his feet before Bronze Yohn could finish him, but the Lord of Runestone had his attention occupied by another already. Austin shook his head, trying to shake off the impact and leapt back into the fray. He watched Bronze Yohn hammer Ser Arys Oakheart into the ground before smacking aside a hedge knight. Austin wisely chose to steer away from him, instead turning back towards Jory.

The Northman was engaged with Ser Meryn Trant, and the two seemed to be even in skill. Jory gained the edge, though, when the Kingsguard tripped on a rock, toppling to the ground. Jory forced the man to yield before turning to face Austin. The two grinned at their survival so far before turning to find their next opponents.

Austin blocked an overhead swing from Ser Robar Royce before countering against the Valesman’s shield. Both disengaged to size up their opponent once again. Ser Robar was tall and broad, but not quite to the extreme of his father, who Austin saw was still throwing knights left and right. Ser Robar attempted a shield charge at Austin, who met the knight’s shield with his own. The two begun a shoving match against their shields, Robar winning, until a massive impact threw them both to the dirt.

Austin clambered to his feet to see the nearly seven foot Sandor Clegane, wielding a mace in each hand. Austin nodded to Robar, who returned the action. It was a silent agreement to join forces and take down the greater threat. Austin went in first, crossing to Sandor’s left side, blocking one of the man’s downward swings with his shield. The force was insane. Austin was forced to one knee by the impact as he waited for Ser Robar to engage. The Vale knight did, raining several blows on the Hound’s torso, but the big man seemed unaffected. 

He backhanded Ser Robar and was about to finish him before Bronze Yohn suddenly tackled the Clegane. Austin figured that the Vale Lord and his son could easily deal with that threat, so he turned to find another opponent. Just as he did, he saw Ser Barristan pointing his sword at Jory’s chest, effectively ending the Northman’s action.

Austin was going to move to avenge Jory, but he noticed a golden-haired knight knocking down Martyn Rivers. Austin immediately sprinted towards Ser Jaime, hoping to catch the knight off guard, but the Lannister caught wind of it and dove out of the way of Austin’s shield charge. Austin whirled around to face his adversary, tossing the shield away to make it a test of complete skill.

The Dayne smirked, waiting for Jaime to make the first move. He didn’t have to wait long, however, as Jaime came at him, twirling his sword before reversing the trajectory, aiming for Austin’s left leg. Austin parried and arced Jaime’s sword over to the other side before elbowing him in the jaw. Jaime stumbled back a few feet, growling in anger and renewing his assault.

Austin knew that all he had to do was fight defensively and wait for a weakness to open up in Jaime’s defenses so that he could strike. Jaime came a little more cautious this time, starting with a testing jab that Austin easily ducked under. Jaime used his momentum do swing back around, and Austin brought his blade up to block. The two stood in deadlock for a few seconds, neither man seemingly stronger than the other. Austin broke the lock with a kick to Jaime’s midsection, the knight stumbling back and colliding with Thoros of Myr. 

The Fire Priest grabbed jaime’s arm and flipped him over his shoulder before pointing his flaming sword at Jaime’s chest. At this, there was a slight respite for Austin. He took this moment to survey the final competitors. After the elimination of Jaime, only four remained: Ser Austin, Thoros, Ser Barristan, and Bronze Yohn. 

Evidently, the Royce had been able to subdue the Hound, at the cost of his son. The closest one to Austin was Thoros, and Austin sighed. He didn’t wish to contend with the Myrian. He was already a renowned swordsman, add a flaming sword to that, and he was a force to be reckoned with. The Red Priest grinned and pulled a flask from withing his red robes, taking a swig.

_ Is he drunk?!  _ Austin thought to himself. 

Thoros was indeed drunk, which made Austin think: was he drunk when he charged through the breach at Pyke?

Austin steeled himself and slowly advanced towards the priest, who put his flask away and grasped the hilt of his sword with both hands. At this point, Austin was dead tired, only running on pure adrenaline at this point, the same with the other competitors. But Austin didn’t have time to be tired, there were only four men left. He nodded to Thoros, who did the same before taking a horizontal swing at Austin. Austin parried and let the sword slide off of his blade, not wishing the flames to be in close proximity for very long. He could feel the heat emanating from the burning blade.

Austin stepped back to reassess. Finding an opening would be hard to do with the flames. He was vaguely aware of the sounds of clanging metal behind him, as Bronze Yohn and Ser Barristan engaged, but he dared not turn to look, as his gaze was focused on Thoros.

The Red Priest grinned once again before thrusting at Austin and bringing his blade back before aiming a swing towards Austin’s shoulder. Austin blocked in such a way that the flaming sword slid right off of his blade. Thoros, however, used that to his advantage, and while his blade fell, he moved it to contact Austin’s faulds that covered his thighs. The sword wasn’t swung hard enough to do any damage, but the leather quickly caught on fire.

Dropping his sword, Austin dove into the mud to extinguish the flame, but when he turned back around, he saw the point of the fire sword aimed at his face. Thoros shrugged at the young Dayne. “Bad luck.”

* * *

Austin took the rest of the day off to relax his tired muscles, taking turns sharing stories of the melee with Jory. Lord Stark even poked his head in to praise the two of them, saying he couldn’t have a better duo as his guardsmen. Austin chuckled before turning in for the night.

He woke the next morning and stretched his stiff muscles before donning his freshly cleaned armour and sword, making his way to Lord Stark’s chambers. He stood, conversing lightly with the lord for several minutes before Lord Varys showed up. Austin didn’t trust the eunuch. Who in their right mind would trust a man called both ‘the spider’ and the Master of Whispers?

“How is your son, my lord?” the eunuch asked.

Lord Stark was busy writing with a quill. “He’ll never walk again.”

“But his mind is sound?” Varys asked as he closed all of the windows and the door.

Austin chuckled at Lord Stark’s eye roll. “So they say.”

“A blessing then. I suffered an early mutilation myself,” Varys continued. Austin shared an amused glance with Lord Stark, knowing full well what the eunuch meant. “Some doors close forever, others open in most unexpected places.”

“You enjoy speaking in riddles, don’t you?” Austin chuckled.

Varys smirked. “You laugh, but as a matter of fact, I do. It gives me joy to see the minds of others trying to work out what I have said,” the spider informed as he sat down.

Lord Stark put down his quill in irritation before giving the eunuch his full attention. “If the wrong ears heard what I’m about to tell you, off comes my head. And who would mourn poor Varys then? North or South, they sing no songs for spiders. But there are things that you must know. You are the King’s Hand, and the king is a fool. Your friend, I know, but a fool. And doomed unless you save him.”

Ned’s ears practically perked up at that. Austin knew that Ned’s devotion to Robert was practically unshakeable. Only matters of severe dishonor would cause the Stark to abandon the Baratheon. “I’ve been in the capital a month. Why have you waited so long to tell me this?”

“I didn’t trust you,” Varys admitted.

Austin burst out into laughter at that, and Ned knew why. The honourable Lord Eddard Stark, untrustworthy? Varys looked at Austin in irritation before Lord Stark continued. “So why do you trust me now?” Lord Stark pried.

“The queen is not the only one who has been watching you closely. There are few men of honour in the capital. The two of you are counted amongst their number. I would like to believe I am another, strange as it may seem,” Varys explained.

Lord Stark seemed intrigued. “What sort of doom does the king face?”

“The same sort as Jon Arryn,” Varys answered ominously. “The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, as clear and tasteless at water, it leaves no trace.”

At that, Lord Stark rose to stare out the window. Austin knew him to be lost in thought, trying to contemplate what to do about this revelation. “Who gave it to him?”

“Some dear friend, no doubt. But which one? There were many. Lord Arryn was a kind and trusting man. There was one boy. All he was he owed to Jon Arryn,” Varys answered.

Austin knew who he meant. “Ser Hugh? His squire?”

Varys nodded. “A pity what happened to him. Just when his life seemed to be going so nicely.”

“If Ser Hugh poisoned him, who paid Ser Hugh?” Lord Stark wondered.

Varys spread his hands, not knowing. “Someone who could afford it.”

“Jon was a man of peace,” Ned said as he placed his hands on the back of his chair, knuckles turning white because of his grip of anger. “He was Hand for seventeen years. Seventeen good years. Why kill him?”

“He started asking questions,” Varys said.

Austin’s blood ran cold. It was at this point that the weight of how dangerous this place was crashed down on him. He started wracking his brain for people he could trust, and the list grew shorter by the second.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Austin was currently leading Arya towards the Hand’s chamber. She’d turned up at the gates of the Red Keep covered in grime and soot. The guards had mistaken her for a street urchin boy before they saw her temper. Austin had been called to retrieve her. His long, white hair billowing in the wind, he turned his piercing, violet eyes on Arya. She knew immediately that she was in trouble. Austin parked her in front of Lord Stark’s desk before leaning on a wall to observe the interaction. 

“You know I had half my guard out searching for you?” Lord Stark asked. “You promised me this would stop.”

“But they said they were going to kill you!” Arya protested.

That caught Austin’s attention.  _ Not on my watch, _ he thought.

“Who did?” Ned asked his daughter.

Arya looked down. “I didn’t see them, but I thin one was fat.”

When Lord Stark shook his head and buried his face in his hands, Arya spoke up. “I’m not lying! They said you found the bastard, and the wolves are fighting the lions, and the savage, they said something about the savage.”

Austin glanced at Lord Stark, fear showing in his eyes. “Where did you hear this?” Ned asked.

“In the dungeons. I was chasing a cat,” Arya admitted.

The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Jory entered. “Pardon, my lord. There’s a Night’s Watchman here begging a word. Says it’s urgent.”

A tall, grizzled man appeared in the doorway, making his way past Jory and into the room. Lord Stark came around to the front of the table, and Austin flanked him. “Your name, friend?”

“Yoren, if it please, my lord. This must be your son, he has the look,” the Night’s Watchman nodded towards Arya. That earned a chuckle from Austin as Arya protested “I’m a girl!”

“Did Benjen send you?” Ned asked.

Yoren shook his head. “No one sent me, my lord. I’m here to find men for the Wall, see if there’s any scum in the dungeon that might be fit for service.”

Ned visibly relaxed. “Oh, we’ll find recruits for you.”

“Thank you, my lord, but that is not why I disturb you now,” Yoren prodded. “Your brother Benjen, his blood runs black, makes him my brother as much as he is yours. It’s for his sake I rode here so hard I damn near killed my horse. There are others riding, too. The whole city will know by tomorrow.”

“Know what?” Lord Stark asked.

Austin rolled his eyes. Yet another problem that they would have to deal with, no doubt. Yoren turned to the side. “Best said in private, my lord.”

Ned bent down to kiss Arya on the head. “Go on. We’ll talk more later. Jory, take her safely to her room. Austin, stay.”

The Dayne nodded before resuming his position against the wall. Yoren closed the door behind Jory and Arya before turning back to Lord Stark.

“Well?” Ned waited.

Yoren took a deep breath. “It’s about your wife, my lord. She’s taken the Imp.”

* * *

Austin was accompanying Lord Stark back towards the king’s chambers, where they were going to speak about what news Yoren had just brought them, when a herald stopped them.

“Lord Stark! Your presence has been requested at the Small Council chamber. A meeting has been called.”

Ned continued on his path, refusing to stop. “I need to speak with the king first, alone.”

“The king is at the small council meeting, my lord. He has summoned you.”

Ned turned back to the herald. “Is it about my wife?”

The herald looked confused. “No, my lord. I believe is concerns Daenerys Targaryen.”

Ned sighed in relief before dutifully turning towards the throne room and in turn, the Small Council. He told Austin to wait outside the door, where it just so happened that Ser Jaime was stationed. Austin took up position on the other side of the door and winked at the Kingslayer, who bristled. It seemed that Austin and Lord Stark were the only two people in all Seven Kingdoms that could get under the oathbreaker’s skin.

Not long after Lord Stark had entered, Austin heard raised voices. It was clearly Robert, though it wasn’t quite loud enough yet for Asutin to discern the words. He didn’t have to wait much longer, though.

“Out, damn you, I’m done with you. GO, RUN BACK TO WINTERFELL! I’LL HAVE YOUR HEAD ON A SPIKE. I’LL PUT IT THERE MYSELF, YOU FOOL! YOU THINK YOU’RE TOO GOOD FOR THIS? TOO PROUD AND HONORABLE? THIS IS A WAR!”

Austin looked at Lord Stark with a shocked expression as the Northern Lord simply barged past. Austin had to practically run to catch up. “What happened?”

“We’re leaving, pack your things.”

* * *

Austin was busy packing what meagre possessions he had before Jory poked his head in. “Lord Stark says bring your arms and armour, we’re going for a ride.”

Austin nodded and followed his friend out of the barracks, mounting a horse and waiting for Lord Stark. He emerged from the keep in the company of Lord Baelish. Asutin shook his head. If they had it his way, they wouldn’t associate with the shrewd man, but what choice did they have?

They rode down the streets of King’s Landing, Jory, Heward, Wyl, Austin, Lord Stark, and Baelish. The six of them stopped outside one of Littlefinger’s brothels. 

_ Well this is a familiar sight, _ Austin scoffed. Heward and Wyl stood guard outside while the other four followed Baelish into the brothel. He called one of his girls, and she emerged, holding a baby in her arms, fresh and young.

“He’s the king’s son. She looks like him, don’t she, my lord? She has his nose, his black hair.”

Ned nodded. “Aye.”

“Tell him when you see him, my lord. If it please you, tell him how beautiful she is. And tell him I’ve been with no one else. I swear it, my lord, by the old gods and the new. I don’t want no jewels or nothing, just him. The king was always good to me.”

Austin glanced at Jory and noticed the Northman was staring at one of the girls. She noticed the two men staring at her and slowly revealed her breasts. Unbeknownst to the two of them, Lord Stark had finished his conversation with the whore and moved to leave after talking with Baelish. “Come.”

Jory and Austin were locked in place, however, not hearing what their lord said. Ned turned back to them. “Jory! Austin!”

“Oh, my lord!” Jory apologized, following Lord Stark from the brothel. They emerged onto the street to a crowd of Lannister soldiers, holding pikes. Ser Jaime rode in, dressed in fine silks, with a sword on his side. He dismounted and faced the men. 

“Ah, shit, here we go,” muttered Austin.

“Such a small pack of wolves,” Jaime smirked. 

Jory stepped forward. “Stay back, ser. This is the Hand of the King.”

“ _ Was _ the Hand of the King. Now I’m not sure what he is. Lord of somewhere very far away,” Jaime stated, staring down Ned and Austin.

Baelish emerged from within the brothel. “What’s the meaning of this, Lannister?”

“Get back inside, where it’s safe,” Jaime ordered. Austin sighed. That was the signal that it would come to bloodshed. “I’m looking for my brother,” Jaime continued. “You remember my brother, don’t you, Lord Stark? Blonde hair, sharp tongue, short man. It seems he had some trouble on the road. You wouldn’t know what happened to him, would you?”

Ned stared deeply at the Lannister. “He was taken at my command, to answer for his crimes.”

Austin had to hide his surprise at what Lord Stark had said. Jaime, clearly angry, had drawn his sword, forcing Austin to do so as well, Jory, Heward, and Wyl doing the same. 

“My lords,” Baelish tried. “I’ll bring the City Watch.”

Jaime spread his hands tauntingly. “Come, Stark. I’d rather you die sword in hand.”

Jory stepped forward, sword poised at his side. “If you threaten my lord again.”

“Threaten? As in I’m going to open your lord from balls to brains and see what Starks are made of.”

Austin chuckled. “To do that, Kingslayer, you’d have to get past me, first. And personally, I don’t think you can.”

Jaime grumbled at Austin’s taunts. “You talk a lot, Dayne.”

“Aye, but I can back it up,” Austin said as he stepped towards the Lannister. “It’s me you’ll be fighting, Jaime.”

Jaime grinned. “And why would I do that?” Jaime turned to his men. “Take Lord Stark and Ser Austin alive, kill their men.”

Heward and Wyl were immediately skewered, but Jory avoided the spear thrown his way and stood next to Austin.

Austin dropped back into a defensive stance as the Lannister soldiers rushed towards him, pikes extended. He slashed down at the first one, severing the spearhead from the pole, leaving it useless before burying his sword up to the hilt into the man’s chest. As he grabbed another pike and ripped it out of another man’s grasp, he flipped it and threw it at another man who was attacking Lord Stark. Jory tried to move towards the Kingslayer, who was standing out of the fight, but Austin grabbed his arm.

“No, he’ll kill you.”

Jory nodded before resuming his defensive stance next to Austin as Lord Stark joined them. The Northern lord had taken out three on his own. Austin took three, and Jory had taken two. The three warriors faced Jaime, who was flanked by the rest of his men. Apparently realizing he wasn’t going to win this fight, even with the superior numbers, Jaime mounted back on his horse.

“My brother, Lord Stark, I want him back,” he declared as he rode off, his men giving chase.

Austin wiped his sword on one of the fallen Lannisters before sheathing it. “Well, that could’ve been worse. I’m disappointed in him. The coward wouldn’t fight me.”

Ned nodded. “Aye, but we need to get back to the Red Keep and bring this matter before Robert.”

Austin and Jory agreed, and the three men mounted up and rode in the opposite direction.

* * *

Lord Stark burst into the throne room, where the king was seated on the iron throne. Austin and Jory flanked him, walking towards the steps, where Lord Stark halted.

“Your Grace, my men and I have been attacked in the streets of the city by none other than a member of your Kingsguard: Ser Jaime Lannister,” Ned informed.

The king simply waved a hand and nodded. “Aye, it seems you have. You could do something about it if you were still my Hand.”

“Do you know what your wife has done?” the queen cut in.

Lord Stark looked at her defiantly. “She did nothing I did not command.”

“Who’d have thought she had it in her?” Robert mused.

Cersei was furious, though. “By what right dare you lay hands on my blood?”

“I am the king’s Hand,” Lord Stark protested.

“You  _ were _ the king’s Hand. You shall now be held accountable,” Cersei stated forcefully.

Robert had enough. “Will both of you shut your mouths?” he demanded. “Cetelyn will release Tyrion and you’ll make peace with Jaime.”

Lord Stark shook his head. “He butchered my men.”

Cersei smirked. “Lord Stark and his companions were returning drunk from a brothel when his men attacked Jaime.”

Robert barely glanced at her. “Quiet, woman. We both know that Ned is too honourable for such accusations.”

Lord Stark continued to look at the two. “Jaime has fled the city. Give me leave to bring him back to justice.”

Robert looked as if he were actually considering it before Cersei scoffed. “I took you for a king. He’s attacked one of my brothers and abducted the other. I should wear the armour and you the gown.”

Austin blanched at the insulting words said towards Robert. The Storm lord turned towards his wife slowly before raising a hand and striking her across the cheek. Cersei recoiled for a moment before rising to her full height once again, trying to look regal and mask the pain.

“I shall wear this as a badge of honour.”

“Wear it in silence or I’ll honour you again,” Robert growled.

Cersei looked down the steps at Lord Stark before turning and fleeing the throne room. Robert sat back down on the throne and slouched, calling for more wine. His squire, Lancel Lannister, brought him a cup.

Robert spread his hands to Ned. “See what she does to me? My loving wife. I should not have hit her. That was not kingly.”

“If we don’t act, there will be a war,” Ned stated plainly. It was very clear that was the case.

Robert glared at Ned. “So tell your wife to return that little shit of an Imp to King’s Landing. She’s had her fun, now put an end to it. You hear me? Send a raven and put an end to it.”

Ned dropped his head. “And what about Jaime Lannister?”

Robert growled in anger. “I’m half a kingdom in debt to his bloody father. I don’t know what happened between you and those yellow-haired shits, I don’t want to know. This is what matters: I can’t rule the Seven Kingdoms if the Starks and the Lannisters are at eachother’s throats, so enough.”

Ned sighed. “As you command, Your Grace,” he said quietly. Austin dropped his head in defeat as well. It was clear that Robert wanted to remain neutral in this, and it was irritating as hell. “With your leave, I will return to Winterfell and set matters straight.”

Robert shook his head. “Piss on that. Send a raven, I want you to stay. I’m the king, I get what I want.” the king took a large swig of wine, draining his cup before belching and continuing. “I never loved my brothers. Sad thing for a man to admit, but it’s true. You were the brother I chose.”

Robert stood and gave his cup back to his squire. “We’ll talk when I return from the hunt.”

“The hunt?” Ned asked.

Robert looked at Ned. “Killing things clears my head,” he said before tossing the Hand’s badge of office down to Lord Stark. “You’ll have to sit on the Iron Throne while I’m away. You’ll hate it more than I do. Put on the badge. And if you ever take it off again, I swear to the mother, I’ll pin the damn thing on Jaime Lannister,” Robert threatened before walking from the room.

Austin bounded up the steps to follow the king. “Your Grace!” he called.

Robert turned around. “What is it, Ser Austin?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go on the hunt as well. It would be nice to get out of the city for a while,” Austin offered. 

The king shrugged. “As you wish. We leave in the morning. See to it that you’re ready.”

Austin nodded and bowed before retreating back to Lord Stark. “What did you say to him?” the Northern Lord asked.

“I asked if I could accompany him on his hunt,” Austin said.

Jory and Lord Stark looked confused. “Why?” they said in unison.

Austin shrugged. “Because I need to take Ingavar out of this city before he murders me. And also, because I have a bad feeling, like I’m supposed to go. Jory, you’re taking over my job. Don’t leave his side.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Edric chuckled as Hodor threw the door to Bran’s room open. The little Stark shot up in his bed to stare at the intruders. Robb and Edric looked amused when Hodor plopped Bran’s new saddle down in front of him. Bran smiled and allowed Hodor to take him down to the stables. Robb carried his saddle and placed Bran on it before they headed out of the castle.

Bran was having the time of his life, being able to ride again after so long. They came to a clearing where Robb, Edric, and Theon sat on a log, watching Bran ride around them.

“Not too fast,” Robb cautioned, smiling nevertheless.

Edric smirked. “You got to let him run free sometime.”

Robb shrugged. “When are you gonna tell him?” Theon pried.

“Not now,” Ronn shook his head.

Theon scoffed. “Blood for blood. You need to make the Lannisters pay for the attacks on your father and Austin.”

“You’re talking about war,” Edric warned. “We can’t start one that will engulf the whole Seven Kingdoms over two guards.”

“I’m talking of justice,” Theon stated.

Robb sighed. “Only the Lord of Winterfell can call in the bannermen and raise an army. I am not the Lord of Winterfell.”

Theon nodded. “Yes you are. You’re acting Lord of Winterfell. All the other bannermen are obligated to answer your call. Now, the Kingslayer rides for Casterly Rock where he’ll hide behind his father. No one can touch him there. You must fight to get justice.”

“You want me to siege Casterly Rock?”

Theon looked increasingly more forceful as the conversation progressed. “They attacked your father, they’ve already started the war. It’s up to you to finish it. It’s your duty to represent your house when your father can’t.”

“And it’s not your duty because it’s not your house,” Robb spat.

Edric placed his face in his palms. “Don’t start this now. We can’t be at eachother’s throats when we have a greater enemy in the Lannisters. Now, I don’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Theon. You can’t allow this to go on any further. Your father is surrounded in the most dangerous city in the world.”

“Which is why I can’t start a war. We have to think about this,” Robb stated before looking up in alarm. “Where’s Bran?”

The three lords shot up and ran into the woods, splitting up to cover more ground. Edric combed through the trees, looking for any sign of the horse he’d trained himself. Finally catching a glimpse, he saw Bran surrounded by four people. Three men and a woman, they looked like men of the mountains or wildlings.

Edric turned to look right, and saw Robb. He nodded to the young lord before skirting around some rocks in an effort to get behind the enemy. He heard the rasp of steel as Robb advanced. “Drop the knife!”

Edric rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wondered why these northerners couldn’t learn stealth. “Let him go and I’ll let you live,” Robb threatened.

Edric used this distraction to sneak around directly behind the wildlings. The one nearest Robb rushed at him with an axe, yelling an attempted war cry. Robb parried and slit the man’s throat, ending the fight very quickly. The girl hit him with a club, but Robb grabbed her by the hair before running another man through. The last man stood there, holding a knife at Bran’s throat.

“Drop the blade!” the wildling ordered. “Do it!”

Edric took this opportunity to come out from behind his cover, drawing his dagger. As Robb set his sword down, Edric crept up behind the man holding Bran and slit his throat, the lifeless body dropping to the ground as an arrow whizzed past Edric’s face.

He whirled around to see Theon holding a bow. “Oi! You trying to kill me, Greyjoy?!”

Theon chuckled. “You shouldn’t have snuck up on him. I could have taken him myself.”

Edric growled in frustration at the near death experience, as well as the shock of taking his first life. Clearly, Robb was going through it as well, because the young lord’s shoulders were shaking. Edric wiped his dagger off and sheathed it before picking Bran up and placing him back in the saddle.

Robb came over. “You alright?” he asked his brother. Bran nodded.

“But you’re not,” Edric observed. 

Robb shook his head. “We’ll talk about it later. For now, we need to get this filth back to Winterfell,” he said, still holding the wildling girl’s hair.

* * *

Austin was filled with senses of nostalgia as he entered the Kingswood. It reminded him of the long trek up to Winterfell all those years ago. He would have been much happier if it was just him and Ingavar, but alas, he was honourable, and felt obligated to protect the king.

“You should’ve been older back then, Renly. Made you miss all those fights. It was simpler times,” Robert stated. 

Lancel Lannister stepped forward, wineskin in hand. “More wine, Your Grace?”

Robert took the wine and chugged a large portion of it before handing it back to the squire. “Ah, what was I saying?”

“Simpler time?” Renly reminded.

“Oh, it was, it was. You’re too young to remember. Wasn’t it simpler, Selmy?”

Ser Barristan, next to Austin smirked amusement. “It was, Your Grace.”

“The enemy was right there in the open, vicious as you like, all but sending you a bloody invitation. Nothing like today.”

“Sounds exhilarating,” Renly said sarcastically. 

Robert emphatically agreed. “Not as much as those balls and masquerades you like to throw.”

Austin chuckled, allowing the king to converse with his brother. “Ser Barristan, if I may, I hear you and my father were very good friends.”

The old knight nodded. “We were, Ser Austin. Your father, myself, and Prince Rhaegar were as close as brothers one day. I regret to say I’m the only one left.”

Austin nodded solemnly. Ingavar brushed his head against Austin’s hand, sensing that his friend was sad. Austin smiled at the grizzly, petting his head. Ser Barristan chuckled. “If you don’t mind me asking, Ser Austin, how did a young knight from House Dayne manage to befriend a massive grizzly bear?”

Austin smiled. “Well, after the Greyjoy Rebellion, I went into self-imposed exile, for reasons I will not divulge. I was five years into it when I stumbled across a lone bear cub. I searched for its mother for days, but she was nowhere to be found, so I took it in. Fed it, kept it warm. We’re still friends to this day, isn’t that right?”

Austin looked down at Ingavar, who stared back at him with his big, soft, brown eyes, grinning like a dog. Austin and Ser Barristan chuckled before they were silenced by king Robert’s sudden question.

“You ever fuck a Riverlands girl?”

“Once, I think,” Renly admitted.

Robert scoffed. “You think? I think you’d remember. Back in our day, you weren’t a real man until you’d fucked one girl from each of the Seven Kingdoms and the Riverlands. We used to call it ‘making the eight.’”

“Those were some lucky girls,” Renly teased, sarcasm heavy again. Austin got the sense that Renly was often at odds with Robert because the young Baratheon wasn’t warlike enough for him.

Robert laughed. “Those were the days.”

Renly stopped. “Which days, exactly? The ones where half of Westeros fought the other half and millions died? Or before that, when the Mad King slaughtered women and babies because the voices in his head told him they deserved it? Or way before that, when dragons burned whole cities to the ground?”

Robert had enough. “Easy, boy. You might be my brother, but you’re speaking to the king.”

“I suppose it was all rather heroic,” Renly continued, refusing to heed Robert’s warnings. “If you were drunk enough and had some Riverlands whore to shove your prick inside and make the eight.”

Renly turned on his heel and stormed off, Robert glaring angrily. “More wine, Your Grace?” Lancel asked, handing the king his wineskin again. Robert took a long swig before continuing on the path, in search of a boar. Austin and Barristan shared a glance before following their king.

* * *

They’d been out here for two nights, and still no boar. Renly had caught up after both he and Robert cooled off. Austin slept against Ingavar each night, curled up in the bear’s warm fur as they searched for their elusive boars. 

Currently, they had resumed their hunt, and were nearing the eastern edge of the Kingswood, when Austin heard the rustling of underbrush. Out of nowhere, the largest boar Austin had ever seen emerged through the trees. It looked mean, and was battle-hardened, judging from the amount of scars on its shoulders from other boars.

Robert, mid-drink, dropped the wineskin and hefted his spear, laughing maniacally. “There you are, you great ugly son of a whore. Bring your pretty face to my spear!”

King Robert was clearly drunk, as he’d been for the past several days, and Austin feared for his ability to fend off such a creature. Austin had no time to voice warning before the boar squealed and charged king Robert head on. Austin felt time slow down as the boar’s menacing tusks grew ever closer to the Storm lord. 

Without warning, the boar was suddenly tossed aside by a mound of brown fur. Ingavar stood up on two legs and roared his challenge to the vicious boar. The overgrown pig rose to its feet and squealed again as it charged Ingavar. The bear batted the animal’s head aside with one of his paws before coming back down to four legs and pouncing on the downed boar, ripping out its throat in one bite.

As Ingavar turned back towards the assembled lords, Robert let out a puff of his great, wheezing laugh as Austin joined in. Ser Barristan let out a sigh of relief, and Renly and Lancel just sat there with dumb looks on their faces.

Robert planted his spear in the ground and clapped Austin on the back. “Now that’s what I call hunting!”

* * *

Austin strode back into the capital, leading his horse by the reins, the enormous boar laid across the saddle. Ingavar lumbered happily along next to him, happy as could be, maw still bloody. After Austin dropped the bear off in the Dragonpit, he followed King Robert back to the Red Keep, where they dumped the boar in the kitchens.

Robert strode back into the throne room, seeing Lord Stark occupying his throne. “Ned! Oh, you should’ve seen it. That bear of Austin’s utterly destroyed that boar. I’ve never seen two animals fight like that.” Ned rose from the Iron Throne to allow space for his king. Robert marched up to the throne and sat down, staring at Ser Barristan, Ser Austin, and Lord Stark.

“Did I miss anything?” Robert asked.

Ned nodded grimly. “Aye, Tywin Lannister started a war.”

* * *

“Seven hells! I go hunting for five days and the whole realm goes to shit! Jaime Lannister sieging Riverrun, Tywin massing another army in the West, the Mountain burning the Riverlands. What am I to make of this?” Robert demanded.

Ned dropped his head. “I do not know, Your Grace.”

Robert sighed. “Well, one thing is for sure. We’re going to have a feast, let everyone taste the boar that almost killed me. Then, we’ll speak of war.”

Unbeknownst to the assembled lords, Littlefinger and Cersei were eavesdropping. “This feast is the perfect opportunity. See to it that all preparations are made.”

Littlefinger bowed. “As you will, Your Grace.”

* * *

Austin was astonished at the amount of people assembled in the throne room. As large of a room as it was, it had been filled with tables upon tables of food. The most grand of all the items being the boar itself, roasted to a nice honey-brown and covered in salt. Austin made a mental note to try that first.

In the meantime, he was seated next to Jory and Lord Stark at the table closest the high one. Robert was absent from the high table, mingling amongst the nobles and servant girls. Austin was chowing down on a chicken leg, eyeing his surroundings. Even at events like these, he still had to remind himself to be wary, for both his sake and Lord Stark’s protection. He was, after all, sworn to protect Lord Stark.

Lord Stark was barely eating, instead had his hands clasped in front of him, lost in thought about how to go about dealing with Tywin and Jaime in a peaceful solution. Austin had to agree, he wasn’t eager to see another war. Though he’d honed his skills in his self-imposed exile, he did that out of necessity to defend the ones he loved when he returned, not to start wars.

Jory, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to all of his surroundings, stuffing his face and laughing with the rest of Lord Stark’s guards. Looking towards the high table, Austin saw Sansa and Prince Joffrey deep in conversation. Austin despised that golden-haired twat, but for some reason, even after the death of her direwolf, Sansa blamed Arya and her father, not Joffrey.

Austin shook his head, thanking the gods that Arya wasn’t here to witness this, as she decided to forgo the feast for more lessons with Syrio Forel, the former First Sword to the Sealord of Braavos. Arya and Austin had grown closer, often conversing when her father was busy. Austin even offered to spar with her every now and then, to keep her in form between lessons with Syrio.

Austin rose and moved through the crowds of people, headed towards the boar, intending to cut a slab of meat off of the thing. He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Ingavar bitch-slapping the boar. Austin had just reached the great beast when he noticed something for the first time. The entire throne room was lined with Lannister soldiers and Gold Cloaks in armour. Austin’s eyes flicked back towards the high table, where the queen was sitting, casually sipping wine. He saw her nod to Janos Slynt and Ser Meryn Trant.

Austin’s eyes grew wide as dinner plates when he realized what was about to happen. He sprinted back to Lord Stark and Jory just as Janos Slynt yelled “Men of the Watch!”

Over one hundred Gold Cloaks lowered their spears, and the Lannister soldiers drew their swords, followed by the Kingsguard and the Hound. Austin was at least relieved to see that Ser Barristan wasn’t among the assembled swordsmen. In fact, the old knight was nowhere to be found.

“Lord Stark! Up! Draw swords!” Austin yelled.

Ned and Jory shot up from their seats as the rest of their men followed suit, all drawing their weapons. Unfortunately, as Lord Stark had sent over twenty men to hunt down the Mountain, he had only thirty guards left, and they were outnumbered four to one at least. The Lannister-Gold Cloak alliance rushed towards the ragtag ring of Northmen. Austin ducked under the first spear, running the Gold Cloak through before withdrawing his sword and smashing a Lannister in the helmet with the pommel.

Due to the enemy’s superior numbers, Austin was forced to utilize speed and wide sweeps to keep them at bay, occasionally darting in for a jab. Chancing a glance behind him, Austin saw Jory and Lord Stark being wrestled to the ground, along with King Robert. Austin drew his dagger and threw it, burying it to the hilt in a Gold Cloak’s back before turning back to the group of six that were attacking him. He’d be damned if he was going to go down without a fight. Austin dodged another jab with a spear before blocking a Lannister’s swing. He was entirely on the defensive now, due to the sheer numbers of his opponents.

Confusingly, Austin saw one of the Lannister men glance up, then smirk in victory. Austin grit his teeth in anger, preparing to charge to his death at the smug Lannister soldiers before an impact hit the back of his head. The last thing Austin saw was the cold marble of the throne room floor rushing up to meet him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Austin’s eyes fluttered open, but he saw nothing. He was shrouded in complete darkness, it clinging to him like a robe, unable to discern any shapes. When he attempted to move his limbs, all he heard was the sound of metal scraping against concrete. He was bound, hand and foot.

“Hello?” he asked uneasily.

“Austin? Is that you?” the voice of Lord Stark asked.

Austin sighed in relief, at least he wasn’t alone in such darkness. “Aye, I’m here, but my head hurts like a whore. Who hit me?”

“It was the Hound,” Jory spoke up.

Austin still could see nothing, but he was at least glad to have company. “Who else is here? Just the three of us?”

“No. I’m here as well. That vicious bitch of a wife Cersei betrayed me,” the booming voice of Robert Baratheon could be heard.

Austin took a deep breath. “What the hell happened? We were so careful.”

Austin heard a chuckle from Robert. “My wife is a clever, hateful woman. She no doubt turned the entire Small Council against me. I’d bet my cock that Littlefinger was the center of it. Traitorous coward.”

“Whatever the case,” a deep, gravelly voice began. “We have been betrayed, and I would bet my knighthood that we are to be executed for supposed treason,” Ser Barristan stated.

“Were you ambushed, Ser Barristan?” Austin asked.

“Indeed. The other five members of the Kingsguard and the Hound dragged me out of my chambers while I slept. I would have cut all of them like cake otherwise.”

Austin didn’t doubt it. Robert’s Kingsguard wasn’t exactly elite. They were fine warriors and knights, but nowhere near the skill level of previous Kingsguards.

Austin could hear the heavy breathing of Lord Stark. “We all grew up with soldiers. We know how to die. Personally, I learned a long time ago.”

“Aye. I don’t mind going out like this, I managed to take a few of the sons of whores before I went, at least,” Jory stated.

Robert just chuckled. “Avoided death by a pig, now I’m to be killed by a lion. We’re fucking doomed.”

Austin sat in silence, allowing the gravity of the situation to set in. He wracked his brain for possible solutions to their current predicament, and he came up with one answer.

“I have an idea. But for it to work, we need two more warriors.”

* * *

Robb stared down at the letter in his hands, growing ever angrier by the second. He looked up to maester Luwin. “Treason? Sansa wrote this?” he asked in disbelief.

Luwin nodded. “It is your sister’s hand, but the queen’s words. You’re summoned to King’s Landing to swear fealty to Prince Joffrey as the new king. They claim Robert Baratheon to be dead. They’ve imprisoned your father and Ser Austin.”

Edric’s head snapped up at that. “I’ll kill them myself,” he growled angrily.

Robb held up a hand. “Joffrey and the queen put my father in chains, now they want their asses kissed?”

Luwin paused. “This is a royal command, my lord,” he stressed. “If you should refuse to obey-”

“I won’t refuse. His Grace summons me to King’s Landing, I’ll go to King’s Landing. But not alone. Call the banners,” Robb ordered.

Edric allowed a small smile as he glanced at Theon, who was doing the same. “All of them, my lord?”

Robb nodded. “They’ve all sworn to defend my father, have they not? Now we’ll see what their words are worth.”

Luwin nodded. It was clear the old man approved. He turned on his heel and proceeded to the maester’s tower, where he was to send dozens of ravens.

Robb slowly sat back down. “Are you afraid?” Theon asked him.

Robb looked down at his hands, trembling at his actions. “I must be,” he agreed.

Theon smirked. “Good.”

“Why is that good?”

It means you’re not stupid.”

* * *

Edric had seldom seen the other lords of the North since his stay at Winterfell, as most of them kept to themselves other than the occasional feast or wedding. The assembled lords marked the largest gathering of the North since the days of Robert’s Rebellion. There were famous warriors and lords crammed into every corner of Winterfell’s hall, starting with Greatjon Umber. The man was seven feet tall, and dwarfed every man in the room. Edric was seated to Robb’s right, the Greatjon at the opposite end of the table.

“For thirty years, I’ve been making corpses out of men, boy. I’m the man you want leading the vanguard!” the Greatjon assured.

Robb, however, stubborn as his father, shook his head, as his mind was already made up. “Galbart Glover will lead the van.”

Lord Umber sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes. “The bloody Wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover! I will lead the van, or I will take my men and march them home.”

Robb grit his teeth, clearly trying to remember what Edric had told him before the lords had arrived.

_ “Robb, I need to talk to you.” _

_ Robb turned around from his conversation with Luwin. “What is it?” _

_ Edric crossed his arms. “Are you sure you’re prepared for the lords to be here? Do you have any inkling of what they will say?” _

_ “No, I don’t, but I think I can handle it,” Robb stated. _

_ Edric shook his head. “That’s the thing, you can’t. I’ve seen your temper. The first cross word these lords say to you and you’ll throw a fit. No. They’re going to try and challenge you, to see if you’re worthy enough to lead them. You need to challenge them back, or else they’ll eat at you.” _

Robb stared down Lord Umber, and Edric silently willed him to keep his composure. “You’re welcome to do so, Lord Umber. And when I am done with the Lannisters, I will march back North, root you out of your keep, and hang you for an oathbreaker.”

Greatjon’s face contorted in a face of utter fury. “Oathbreaker, is it?!” the Greatjon bellowed before rising and tossing his chair aside. “I’ll not sit here and swallow insults from a boy so green he pisses grass!”

The Greatjon attempted to draw his sword, but was stopped when Grey Wind leapt onto his chest, grabbed hold of his hand, and chewed off two fingers. Lord Umber yelled in pain for a few seconds before standing up and holding the bloodied digits. 

“My lord father taught me it was death to bare steel against your liege lord. Doubtless, the Greatjon only meant to cut my meat for me,” Robb stated to the rest of the assembled lords. Edric nodded to Robb in approval, as he’d earned the respect of the lords.

“Your meat,” the Greatjon took a moment to survey the lords. “Is bloody tough,” he nodded before producing a chortle that turned into full-blown laughter. The rest of the assembled lords, including Edric and Robb, all joined in.

* * *

The next morning, the entire army, all eighteen thousand men set out for their camp at Moat Cailin, where they would plan their assault on the Lannisters. Edric rode next to Robb at the head of the column.

Robb turned to Edric at one point during the long ride. “So, how did I do?”

Edric let out a short bark of laughter. “After what Grey Wind did to the Greatjon, I doubt any of the other lords or ladies will go against you, especially not him. The Umbers are famously loyal to the Starks, you won’t have to worry about him betraying you.”

Robb nodded before resuming the ride in silence. They arrived at Moat Cailin, the ancient Northern fortress, after a week’s riding. The resulting camp was a sight to behold. All the white tents stretched for nearly a mile in every direction. Robb set up his command tent at the center of all of them.

The day after they’d made camp, Robb called a meeting of his War Council, which consisted of Edric, Theon, Lord Umber, Galbart Glover, and several others.

Edric noted how fast the battle lines had been drawn. The map of Westeros was laid out before them, lion pieces and wolf pieces already placed in their current locations.

“Alright, my lords. These are the current positions of the Lannister forces. The Riverlords are in disarray, and Jaime Lannister holds siege of Riverrun. Lord Tywin is bringing around a second army from the Southwest. Our scouts confirm it’s even larger than the Kingslayer’s,” Robb laid out. 

The Greatjon scoffed. “One army, or two, the Kings in the North threw back hosts ten times as large,” the Greatjon quickly rose to his feet, seeing something behind Robb and Edric.

The two turned to see Lady Catelyn Stark, and Ser Rodrik Cassel. “Mother!” Robb greeted.

Catelyn was silent, taking in the gathered lords and her son in his battle armour. She looked him up and down before nodding. “You look well.”

“Lady Catelyn, you’re a welcome sight in these troubled times,” Lord Umber granted. 

Theon turned to the Lady, confusion etched onto his face. “We had not thought to find you here, my lady.”

Catelyn shook her head. “I had not thought to be here. I would speak with my son, alone. I know you will forgive me, my lords.”

The Greatjon nodded and turned to the assembled lords. “You heard her, move your asses! Come on, out! You too, Greyjoy.”

Edric chuckled at the man. He was genuinely starting to like the huge warrior. “Have no fear, my lady, we’ll shove our swords up Tywin Lannister’s dunghole, then it’s off to the Red Keep to free Ned.”

Edric bowed before Lady Stark and Robb before taking his leave with Theon, allowing the two of them their reunion. Gods, how he wished Austin were here. He could use his fellow Dayne’s company right now. But to do that, he’d have to help Robb win a war.

* * *

The War Council reconvened that night in the command tent, with Lady Catelyn and Ser Rodrik present this time. The old knight was an extra experienced eye that they needed.

“Our scouts report that Lord Tywin is moving North. We need to get him on broken ground, put his knights at a disadvantage,” Rodrik advised.

The Greatjon evidently disagreed. “No, we need to get around him and break Jaime Lannister’s siege of Riverrun. Do that, and the Riverlords will join us.”

Edric nodded. “I agree. Better to take the Kingslayer by surprise and gain additional allies rather than fight Tywin’s full host in our first battle.”

“To do either, we need to cross the river,” Robb stated. “The only crossing other than the Trident is at the Twins.”

“Lord Frey controls that bridge. Your father’s bannerman,” Theon stated, looking at Catelyn.

She scoffed. “The ‘late Lord Frey’ my father calls him. At the Trident, he didn’t appear until the battle was done. Some men take their oaths more seriously than others.”

“We need the Twins. That way, we can sneak past Tywin’s forces and defeat Jaime before Tywin even gets wind that we’ve crossed the river,” Robb said.

Edric nodded. “He’s right. We can even pick up reinforcements from Lord Mallister at Seagard on the way to Riverrun.”

“So, what’s it going to be? Do we move against Jaime, or lord Tywin?”

Suddenly, the flaps of the tent burst open, with two guards escorting a Lannister man by the arms. Theon reached down and quickly covered their battle plans, but the Greatjon only laughed. “There’s no need for that, lad. He won’t be leaving this tent with his head.”

“He looked to be counting, my lord,” one of the guards stated.

Robb stepped towards the scout. “How high did you get?”

“Twenty thousand, maybe more,” the scout answered.

Rodrik spoke up. “You don’t have to do this yourself. Your father would understand-”

“My father understands mercy when there is room for it. And he understands honour. And courage. Let him go,” Robb said, looking around the room for a challenge. The lords were clearly not happy, but none said a thing until the tent closed again, and the Greatjon got in Robb’s face.

“Are you touched,  _ boy _ ? Letting him go?”

“Call me boy again,” Robb threatened. “Go on.”

The Greatjon grumbled angrily before storming out of the tent. Edric sighed. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Robb eyed Edric. “I’m the lord here, not you.”

“Aye, you are. But I am one of your advisors. I am simply advising you that you should not have done that. It is better for Tywin to have no word of us than anything at all,” Edric explained.

Robb shook his head. “No, I want him to think we are coming for him so we can cross at the Twins and break Jaime’s siege of Riverrun.”

* * *

The Twins was largely unimpressive. It was simply two stone towers with drawbridges that allowed Lord Frey to exact tolls on the people who wished to cross.

Two riders were heading towards them from Lord Walder. “Who will go?” Theon asked.

“I will go,” Robb volunteered. “It’s my army.”

Edric placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “No. If you set foot in there, he will take you prisoner and hold you hostage for Tywin Lannister, giving us no choice but to surrender. It has to be someone of value, but not our leader himself.”

“Which is why I will go,” Lady Catelyn volunteered. “I have known Lord Walder since I was a girl. He would never harm me,” she assured before setting off to meet the two Frey riders, disappearing into the drawbridged fortress.

* * *

“Are you completely mad?” Jory asked incredulously.

Austin laughed. “Aye, I might be, but it’s likely our only shot at it. Lord Varys, can you get word to the two we have mentioned, and see if they are up to the challenge?”

The eunuch nodded, the light of the torch he was carrying casting dark shadows that danced on the floor. “I believe I can, my lord.”

“If we do this, there is no guarantee that all of us get out of this alive,” Ned cautioned.

Robert chuckled. “I don’t give two shits about that, I just want to get this going already. My blood is boiling.”

Austin grinned. “Then I guess it’s finally taking shape.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Edric sat next to Robb as they reviewed their battle plans. In the event that Lady Stark failed to secure their crossing, they were going to have to face Tywin Lannister. He had them outnumbered by over ten thousand, and had twice the amount of cavalry they did. They needed to find sloped, broken ground in order to effectively cancel out his knights.

Before they could finalize it, Lady Stark appeared at the mouth of the tent, with all the lords in assembly standing to greet her. “Well?” Robb demanded.

Edric noticed the deep, reluctant breath Lady Stark took before speaking. “Lord Walder has granted your crossing. His men are yours as well, less the four hundred he will keep here to hold the crossing against any who would pursue you.”

“And what does he want in return?” Edric asked. “Men like Walder Frey don’t grant favors out of the goodness of their hearts.”

Lady Stark looked at her son uneasily. “You will take his son, Olyvar, as your personal squire. He expects a knighthood in due time.”

Robb nodded. “Fine, fine. And?”

Lady Stark smirked. “And Arya will marry his son Waldron.”

All the Starks, Ser Rodrik, Theon, and Edric all chuckled at that. They knew how feisty Arya could get to be when her temper was raised. “She won’t be happy about that,” Robb smiled. His smile faded when he saw the look his mother had. “And?”

“And...when the war is over, you will marry one of his daughters. Whichever you prefer. He has a number he thinks will be...suitable,” Lady Catelyn informed her son, dreading every word out of her mouth.

“I see,” Robb said quietly. “Did you get a look at his daughters?”

Lady Stark nodded. “I did.”

Edric and Theon were fighting to stifle their laughter. Even the Greatjon was struggling to hold it in, the amusement shining in his eyes. “And?” Robb asked.

“One was…” Lady Stark began, but thought better of it. “Do you consent?”

Robb scowled in anger and frustration. “Can I refuse?”

“Not if you want to cross.”

“Then I consent,” Robb said before storming out of the tent. Edric bowed to Lady Stark before following Robb.

He caught up to the young Northern lord at the outskirts of the camp, where he was sitting on a log. Edric sat down next to him. The two sat in silence for a while, Robb taking in his newfound responsibilities, and edric giving him time.

“Seven fucking hells, damn the Lannisters. None of this would’ve happened if they hadn’t attacked father,” Robb cursed.

Edric nodded. “Aye, you’re right about that. But now, you have a duty to your house, as well as your men. If you go back on your word, you will lose standing among the Northern lords, as they value honour above everything else. Well, except for the Boltons and the Karstarks.”

Robb nodded. “Aye, I suppose you’re right. I just always thought I’d be able to choose who I get to marry, not be forced into a marriage just to cross a damned bridge.”

Edric chuckled. “Well, if we’re speaking technically, he did say you could have any daughter you wanted.”

Robb punched Edric on the shoulder before laughing himself. “How did you get so damned smart, Edric? I’ve never known you to be wrong about matters of politics.”

Edric shrugged. “Living on the road for three months taught me how to read people. The more of the world you see, the better you get at predicting what others will do.”

Robb nodded. It made complete sense. Edric and Austin had to survive on their own, with no help but from one sellsword. They had to adapt to survive, and it made them better for it.

* * *

The wind whipped Edric’s white hair and bit at his face as he galloped alongside Robb and the rest of the lords, leading their cavalry along the road, towards the Whispering Wood. Luckily for them, the Blackfish, Ser Brynden Tully, had joined them along with several hundred Mallisters from Seagard. Their cavalry was some two and a half thousand strong at least, if not more.

The roads were easy to traverse, as the Riverlands were known for their trade routes and overall wealth. This allowed Robb’s forces to proceed unnoticed by Tywin Lannister as the rest of his army brought up the rear, moving slower than the mounted knights. Earlier, just before crossing at the Twins, Robb had given Lord Roose Bolton two thousand men and sent him to head off Lord Tywin’s army, misleading the Warden of the West.

Robb’s cavalry forces made camp several miles north of Riverrun, just outside the Whispering Wood, where they would hold council to finalize their strategy. After seeing to it that his horse was being cared for after a hard day’s riding, Edric quickly made for the command tent.

He entered and sat just as Robb began. “What news from our scouts?”

“Good news, my lord. Our scouts report that the confident bastard Jaime Lannister believes his position to be so secure that he leads small parties of four hundred outriders to fend off guerilla fighters led by Marq Piper and Karyl Vance. We can exploit this to ambush the Kingslayer.”

Robb nodded affirmation, but Edric stepped in. “I believe it just as likely that the Kingslayer may ambush the ambush if he catches wind of our plans. If indeed that happens, we will be trapped, away from our supply lines and the rest of our forces. As it stands, the entirety of the Kingslayer’s forces number thirty thousand. We have less than four thousand cavalry with us.”

Robb shook his head. “If we can get word to Karyl Vance and Marq Piper, we can coordinate the ambush. Whispering Wood would be the best place, as we cannot be flanked due to the riverbank and the mountains on either side of the road. We could come through the trees and slaughter him.”

“Aye. I suggest that course of action,” the Greatjon offered.

Robb set his jaw. “Then that’s what we’ll do. Prepare the men for battle. Tomorrow, we face the Kingslayer.”

* * *

The woods were quiet. They’d been waiting here for hours, waiting for the Riverlords to lead Jaime Lannister into the Wolf’s jaws. Ser Stevron Frey interrupted the silence when he sprinted up to Robb. “My lord, I believe the provocations worked a little too well. The Kingslayer mustered his entire cavalry force. Two thousand riders are heading this way.”

Edric blanched. This battle just got a whole lot tougher. As if on queue, the sound of hoofbeats began as a distant rumble before turning into an uproar as three hundred Riverlands outriders sped past. Looking further back, through the trees, Edric could see the dust cloud formed by Jaime Lannister and his Red Cloak Knights. Their pace slowed, however, as they lost sight of the Riverlands men, who had disappeared into the trees. Just as they got into the center of the valley, Robb mounted up and shouted “Archers!”

On orders, several hundred bowmen stepped towards the treeline and aimed at the host of Lannister cavalry. The thrum of bowstrings could be heard as a literal cloud of arrows descended into the ranks of the Lannisters below. After the second volley, Robb decided to join the Frey.

“Cavalry! With me! Charge!”

Edric spurred his horse forward, next to Robb’s, as they rode down the green slope, thousands of cavalry in tow. On the other side of the valley, Edric could see the other half of their men, under the command of Lord Umber, charging down as well. As the steel horseshoes rumbled and shook the ground around him, waves of arrows flew over Edric’s head, embedding themselves in both horse and man alike. They abruptly stopped, though, when the Stark cavalry neared the enemy lines. 

Due to the chaos of the arrow volleys, it was clear that Jaime hadn’t enough time to reform his lines and meet their charge with his own. Instead, drawing his sword, Edric and the rest of the cavalry smashed into their ranks, lances shattering on impact, horses toppling over, men screaming in pain. Above all, Edric began to smell iron in the air, the scent of blood. 

As Edric charged towards a dismounted Lannister, the man hefted his lance and Edric’s horse skewered itself, catapulting Edric forward, landing on his back in the mud. Quickly rising to his feet, he ducked under a swing from the man who killed his horse before opening the man’s gut with his sword, the innards spilling out onto the ground.

Due to so many horses, the ground quickly became muddy, the grass all but disappearing underneath the blood and bodies and mud. Edric quickly became filthy as he danced around lightly over the bodies. The Dayne was searching in vain for Robb and the rest of his guards through the chaos, but they were nowhere in sight. So Edric fought shoulder to shoulder with some of the Stark and Umber men, the small battle growing smaller by the minute.

At one point, Edric did catch a glimpse of Robb, still astride his horse, before the lord was toppled by several men that dragged him out of the saddle. Though Edric trusted Robb’s bodyguard, he still fought fiercely to reach the Northern lord, and was drawing closer when he caught wind of a mane of long, blonde hair.

_ The Kingslayer, _ Edric realized.

Jaime had just cut down a Stark man before turning to survey the field. Seemingly understanding that he’d lost the battle, Jaime turned and sprinted towards Robb. Two of the Karstark brothers, Torrhen and Eddard, were killed somewhat easily by the Kingslayer, one with a cut throat, the other with a stab through the heart. Edric was still on his way towards Robb, though, and just as the Kingslayer was about to stab Robb in the back, the Dayne tackled the man.

Edric rolled to his feet and faced his adversary. Wordlessly, he attempted several overhead and horizontal swings, Jaime parrying or blocking all of them before going on the offensive. Edric was forced back by the speed and skill of his opponent, before the Kingslayer caught his blade and spun it out of his hand. Edric didn’t have time to register the pain before a sword was thrust through his upper left shoulder, forcing him to the ground. As Jaime smirked above him, sword still embedded in Edric’s shoulder, the Dayne growled and withdrew a dagger, plunging it into the Kingslayer’s thigh.

The Kingsguard knight roared in pain before he was tackled yet again, this time by a pair of Stark soldiers, causing his sword to spin out of his grasp. He was quickly bound and brought to his knees as Robb sheathed his sword and approached. Edric, placing his right hand over the wound in his left shoulder and applying pressure, slowly rose to stand next to the young Northman.

“Put him on a horse. We’ve won today.”

* * *

Edric barely had time to get stitched up and bandaged before Robb’s lords rode off again, headed back to the camp. They found Lady Catelyn and Ser Rodrik waiting for them. The Kinslayer was roughly thrown to the ground, slowly rising to his knees as Edric, Theon, and Robb dismounted.

“By the time they knew what was happening, it had already happened,” Robb told his mother. 

Jaime looked around at the assembled lords, nodding to Catelyn. “Lady Stark. Forgive me if I don’t stand, I seem to have caught a dagger in my leg,” he said, glaring at Edric, who had his arm in a leather sling.

“Give me my daughters back,” Catelyn ordered, mustering all the venom she could. “Give me my husband.”

Jaime shrugged. “I’m afraid I’ve lost them.”

“Kill him, Robb. Send his head to his father,” Theon proposed.

Edric raised his good hand. “No, if you do that, we give them reason to execute your father. We need him alive.”

“Take him away and put him in irons,” Lady Stark commanded.

The Greatjon, seemingly giddily, hauled the Lannister up to his feet. “Come on, pretty man.” The rest of the men cheered in victory.

Robb turned to Edric. “I sen two thousand men to their deaths so that we could win this battle.”

Edric nodded solemnly. “Aye. No one said war was ever easy. Sacrifice is the core of it.”

* * *

Austin was nearly blinded by the sunlight as he was practically dragged outside. He, Lord Stark, and Jory were all set to stand trial today, for treason. Allegedly, according to the queen, they’d plotted to kill king Robert, as well as her whore son Joffrey, who Lord Stark had told them all in the black cells was Cersei’s bastard son by Jaime. Needless to say, Robert nearly choked himself on the chains trying to break free, claiming he’d slaughter every one of the yellow-haired shits.

It was clear why they hadn’t brought king Robert and Ser Barristan with them, as the local populace believed them to be dead, but the lords and ladies knew otherwise. Austin shook his head in utter contempt for the circumstances before him as he walked through the crowd, led by two Gold Cloaks. 

Austin felt a stab of pain in his ribs as someone in the crowd punched him. He was directly behind Lord Stark, and Austin was surprised to see the Night’s Watchman Yoren among the crowd. Lord Stark looked at the man. “Baelor!” he shouted.

Austin was confused until he looked at the statue of Baelor the Blessed and saw Arya, grimy and looking like a boy, distinguishable only by her sword, Needle, which was thrust in her belt. Austin allowed a small smile, knowing that at leat she hadn’t been captured. Sansa, on the other hand, she was standing on the dais along with the newly crowned ‘King’ Joffrey and Queen regent Cersei. The Kingsguard, now down to five members, as well as the Hound were assembled as well, along with Janos Slynt and the Gold Cloaks and Lannister soldiers.

Austin, Jory, and Ned were all taken up onto the steps and lined up, facing the crowd. Lord Stark was moved to the forefront, as it seemed like the trial was mainly for him. Austin wagered that they’d be subjected to the same fate as the Northman.

The crowd quieted down when grand maester Pycelle stepped forward. “We are here in sight of gods and men to determine the fate of Lord Eddard Stark, the former Hand of the King, and Warden of the North.”

The crowd booed at that, but was quickly silenced when Joffrey stood and raised his hands. “Good people of King’s Landing! You deserve the truth. This man, my father’s most trusted friend, conspired with his men,” motioning to Austin and Jory, “to have my father and I killed in our sleep. They succeeded with my father, but not I. So now, I come before you, speaking the truth, to ask what you think of these men.”

The answer was clear as the crowd erupted into chaos. Most of them screaming for the three of their heads, and one man even threw a rock, which impacted Lord Stark’s temple, splitting the skin. The pain dropped the lord to one knee, but he quickly rose back to his full, proud height. 

This time, Pycelle raised his hands. “As we sin, so do we suffer. The gods are just, but beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful,” Pycelle turned to Joffrey. “What is to be done with these traitors, Your Grace?”

Joffrey, the smug little prick, smiled at the cries of ‘death’ from the crowd before raising his hands again. “My mother wishes me to let these men join the Night’s Watch, in order to save the realm from war. Strip them of all titles and power so that they may still serve the realm in permanent exile. And my lady Sansa, has begged mercy for her father,” Joffrey smirked.

Austin suddenly recalled a phrase Lord Stark often said around his sons at Winterfell. 

_ “Everything before the word ‘but’ is horseshit.” _

“But they have the soft hearts of women,” Joffrey continued. “So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn...bring me their heads!”

The crowd erupted into cheers and shouts at Joffrey’s orders. Austin noticed the queen and Sansa screaming for Joffrey to belay the order, but the golden-haired cunt was dead set on his ways. Lord Stark was pushed to his knees by two men as Ser Ilyn, in an insulting manner, drew Ice, the ancestral family greatsword of House Stark.

Austin felt an impending sense of danger, and adrenaline coursed through his veins as he realized that today might be the day he dies. In a sudden burst of strength, Austin snapped the ropes binding his arms like they were paper, choosing this time to make his move. Before any of the Gold Cloaks or Lannister men could stop him, Austin rushed towards Ser Ilyn Payne, wrestling the sword out of his grasp before using it to behead the mute knight. His bald head rolled to the floor, leaving a trail of red blood on the steps of the Sept of Baelor.

“ENOUGH!” Austin shouted. “It is clear that we will get no justice here, so invoke my ancient rights of this realm! For all three of us, I demand a Trial by Seven!”


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Hollow Hill was quiet that night. Lord Beric Dondarrion had just been resurrected for the fourth time, after Ser Gregor Clegane stabbed him in the eye with a dagger. He and Thoros of Myr had recently formed the Brotherhood Without Banners, a band of freedom fighters hell-bent on protecting the common people.

Thoros was cleaning his sword after the most recent scrap as Beric fingered the ugly wound where his eye used to be, as well as the ragged scars on his neck where the hanging rope had clinched, leaving his voice raspy and guttural.

All of a sudden, some of the men dragged a blindfolded freerider into the cave before removing his blindfold and setting him down in front of Beric and Thoros. “Who is he?” Beric asked.

“He claims he brings a message from Lord varys, the spymaster of King’s Landing,” Anguy informed, handing Beric the sealed scroll. Taking it lightly and breaking the seal, Beric unrolled the scroll and positioned it so that Thoros could see as well. After the two had read the letter, their eyes snapped towards eachother.

“We need to ride for the capital.”

* * *

Austin was cold, tired, and growing more irritable by the day. It had been a week since they demanded a Trial by Seven, and all they were allowed was the demands of their weapons and armour before being thrown back into the black cells. At least they were being fed and watered more frequently now.

“Gods, this is going to be glorious. I haven’t held my hammer in years. I may have to use two hands, but I guarantee that I can still swing the damned thing,” Robert boasted.

Ned chuckled. Lord Stark had simply asked for Ice and his boiled leather armour. Austin, similarly, only asked for a sword and his armour. Jory was still in his armour from the feast, and all he needed was a sword. Ser Barristan had demanded his Kingsguard armour with a sword, and Robert demanded his spiked iron warhammer, plate mail, and his antlered helmet. Austin didn’t dare voice it, but he wondered if the plus sized king would even be able to squeeze into his plate mail.

Austin was starting to believe this was a fight they could win. Unless they brought in the Mountain, who was at war in the Riverlands, they would have this fight won before it even started as long as the two warriors they’d requested showed up. Austin was fairly confident they would, though.

Austin heard a sigh from his right, where Ser Barristan was chained. “We may win the trial, but as soon as we do, Cersei will no doubt dishonour herself and her son even further by ordering her men and the Gold Cloaks to kill us. We’d need to fight our way out of the city.”

“Aye. We would. We’ll need horses, as well,” Jory said.

“If they hold the trial in the Dragonpit, we’d need to double back for horses. We can’t afford that. We escape on foot or we don’t escape at all,” Ned cautioned.

* * *

Edric burst into the command tent, out of breath from his run, and immediately handed the letter he was carrying to Robb. Robb took it and read it, a smile creeping onto his face before becoming full-fledged as he placed it back on the table. He turned and laughed before embracing Edric fiercely.

Lady Stark looked confused. “What is it?”

“Austin’s demanded a Trial by Seven for him, father, and Jory!” Robb announced.

Lady Stark smiled. “That fool is doing everything in his power to uphold his oath, isn’t he?” she asked lightly, seemingly talking to herself rather than those in assembly.

“What oath?” Edric and Robb asked in unison.

Catelyn looked up with happy eyes. “Before they left Winterfell to head South with the king, Austin swore to me he’d bring Ned back in one piece. It seems he intends to keep that promise, no matter what.”

Edric grinned at that. It did sound exactly like Austin. “That bastard refuses to die,” he stated happily.

The Greatjon spoke up. “Well this is all good and well, but what happens if they lose?”

Edric looked at him with hardened, cold eyes. “They won’t lose.”

* * *

Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr rode through the gates of King’s Landing unopposed, as all the Gold Cloaks and guards knew exactly who they were. They trotted all the way up to the gates of the Red Keep before some Lannister soldiers finally had the audacity to challenge them.

“Halt! Who would enter the Red Keep?”

Beric glanced to Thoros and back to the guards. “Lord Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr.”

The guards stayed silent for a moment before laughing. “Beric Dondarrion is dead, caught a lance to the heart from the Mountain at the Mummer’s Ford. Thoros died with him. Now piss off.”

Beric chuckled before nodding to Thoros. The Red Priest grinned and drew how sword from its sheath. He placed the blade on his palm before running it across the cold metal. As he took his hand away, the blade burst into red flames.

Thoros looked down at the guard. “What were you saying?”

* * *

Austin stirred to the jingle of keys, followed by the faint orange glow of torchlight. He sat up as the light grew closer, shielding his eyes from the light until they adjusted. When he finally lowered his hand, he saw a sight that brought a smile to his face. 

“Beric and Thoros. Welcome to our humble abode,” Austin joked as he spread his arms, the chains clinking on the concrete.

The Lightning Lord chuckled. “We come as requested, Lord Stark.”

Ned nodded. “And I thank you for it. After Ser Austin proposed a Trial by Seven, we knew we needed two more warriors.”

Thoros looked confused. “Two more? But I thought there were only three of you.”

It was at this point that the two newly arrived finally noticed Robert Baratheon and Ser Barristan chained up further into the cells. “Your Grace,” Beric said, immediately dropping to one knee. “But how can this be? We received reports that you were dead. The entire countryside is talking about it. We knew Lord Stark wouldn’t do it, but we still thought you dead.”

Robert chuckled. “Well I’m not dead. At least not yet, anyway.”

“When is the trial to take place?” Ser Barristan asked.

Thoros took a deep breath. “Tomorrow.”

* * *

It was blisteringly hot as Austin stepped out of the Red Keep. After being unchained, they were led to an area where their arms and armour had been laid out. They had all quickly dressed and readied themselves for the coming fight as they were joined by Beric and Thoros.

The walk to the Dragonpit was long and suspenseful. They were accompanied by three dozen guards. The commonfolk were surprisingly docile, mostly whispering amongst themselves when they saw Robert, carrying his warhammer and holding his helmet in his hands. 

Austin caged his eyes and his mind from all outside distractions and began playing every possible scenario in his head. He’d learned that they did not have the Mountain, which was a blessing in and of itself. He knew the five remaining Kingsguard would be there, and the Hound, the question was, who was their seventh?

As the seven combatants turned onto the gravel paths of the Dragonpit, Austin began scanning for Ingavar. He hoped to all the gods that he hadn’t been killed. He proved to be right, as when they turned onto the road that led straight into the Dragonpit, Austin saw a large, iron cage on the side of the path. Inside it, laying on the ground, was Ingavar.

The massive grizzly raised his head and practically called out to Austin when he saw him. Austin raised a hand and silenced the bear, trying with all his might to send a mental message for it to bide its time.

As they were led into the Dragonpit, Austin glanced at the massive crowd of noblemen and members of the Faith, before his eyes settled on the seven armed and armoured men under a tent in the center of the pit. Austin’s group was led to an identical tent opposite their combatants before their guards took up positions around the perimeter.

Austin stared across at their opponents. “I was right. All five Kingsguard, Sandor Clegane, and...Osmund Kettleblack.”

Robert nodded. “That’s about what I was expecting. This will be fucking easy,” Robert grinned, stepping outside the tent and spreading his arms to the crowd. “GIVE ME A REAL CHALLENGE YOU SONS OF WHORES!”

Austin checked the straps on his armour one last time before drawing his sword and setting at it with a whetstone while they waited. Lord Stark sat next to him, Ice drawn. He began cleaning the Valyrian steel with a wet cloth as Robert gave his warhammer a few test swings. Normally, Austin would ask any other man smaller than the Mountain why they wielded such a sword in battle, but the Dayne knew that Valyrian steel is much lighter than normal steel, and much stronger. It held an edge like no other. Perhaps its only equal was Dawn, the ancestral sword of House Dayne, forged from the metal of a fallen star.

Austin at least knew one thing. His entire team was pissed off. They’d been stuck in a cell for gods know how long. Weeks? Months? The entire time, all Austin could think about was this moment. The moment he’d claim his freedom.

They waited extremely impatiently as Grand Maester Pycelle waddles his old, decrepit ass to the middle of the pit to address the crowd. “In the sight of gods and men, we gather to ascertain the guilt or innocence of Lord Eddard Stark, Ser Austin Dayne, and Jory Cassel. May the gods grant all of our warriors mercy and justice, and give strength to their swords.”

Austin rose at the sound of trumpets. Four servants quickly ran in to take the tent away by the poles, leaving the sun beating down on the seven competitors. The armour of Austin glinted in the sunlight like the moon, while Ser Barristan’s shone like the sun. Robert still looked imposing as ever as he donned his antlered helmet, hefting his warhammer in two hands. Austin twirled his sword, testing the balance before pointing it towards the ‘King’s’ awning, where Joffrey and Cersei were seated.

Austin brought his eyes back down to the men across from him. The five Kingsguard shone just as brightly as Ser Barristan, and the Hound was an imposing figure in his entirely black brigandine. Osmund Kettleblack was an unknown, however. Austin had never seen the man fight, and had only met him once, during the tournament.

Lord Stark set ice on one of his shoulders as Thoros and Beric lit their swords on fire. Beric was the only one using a shield out of the fourteen assembled. Austin grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes, wanting to get this started already. The sound of trumpets signaled the beginning of the match, and Austin grinned, dropping into a stance and slowly advancing towards their opponents.

Both teams circled eachother a couple times, trying to discern the movement patterns of each man before without warning, the five Kingsguard charged. Austin yelled his challenge and met Ser Arys Oakheart in the middle, blades colliding ferociously. Robert was laughing as he swung his warhammer around like it weighed nothing. He may be fat, but he was still strong, clearly showing his impressive strength as he attempted to make contact with Ser Meryn. Ned had dropped on the defensive, parrying blows from Osmund Kettleblack. Thoros had Ser Mandon Moore, and Beric had gone after the Hound himself. There was rumour that Clegane was scared of fire, so Austin saw this as a wise strategy. That left Jory with Ser Preston Greenfield, and Ser Barristan was twirling and parrying blows from Ser Boros Blount.

Austin was forcing Ser Arys backwards, as he was clearly the more skilled of the two. It was becoming infuriating, though, as each time Austin thought he had his opponent, Ser Arys would bring his blade up just in time to keep himself alive. Austin swore it wouldn’t last much longer as he feinted left swung past Arys’ blade, making contact with the inner part of the man’s thigh. Ser Arys’ mobility was immediately limited as he could barely put weight on the leg. Austin withdrew his sword before hammering blow after blow on Ser Arys’ defenses. Finally, the man’s guard broke, and Austin found his sword buried in the Kingsguard’s shoulder, shattering his collarbone as blood came spurting out. He dropped lifelessly to the stone floor of the pit, and Austin whirled around to attempt to aide his teammates.

Ser Barristan was just finishing a thrust through Boros Blount’s midsection, withdrawing his sword as the man slumped forward. Austin nodded to the older knight before moving to aid Lord Stark. The patriarch of the Stark family didn’t need his help, though. The Northern lord had baited Osmund into thrusting at him, so Lord Stark swept Ice in front of him, the force behind the greatsword knocking the sellsword’s weapon out of his grasp. Ned quickly reversed the swing of his sword and brought it back across, severing the man’s head from his shoulders. Austin shrugged before scanning for someone who did need his help. Just as his head turned, he watched, seemingly in slow motion, as a sword pierced the heart of his best friend. 

“Jory!” Austin exclaimed, before hardening his eyes and rushing over to help his friend. He shoulder charged Ser Preston, dislocating his left shoulder, but Austin didn’t even feel the pain. All he cared about now was avenging his fallen brother. He stabbed down and pierced Ser Preston between the eyes with a satisfying crunch. Austin quickly turned to Jory, but the guardsman was already still, having died choking on his own blood. Austin didn’t have time to mourn as he had to continue the battle. 

Robert had finally succeeded in knocking Ser Meryn over, but the knight had a trick up his sleeve as he drew a dagger and plunged it into the Baratheon’s left side. Robert grunted in pain before his Baratheon fury shone like fire in his eyes. He raised his hammer and brought it down with both hands onto Meryn Trant’s skull. The result looked as if someone had crushed a golden bowl of tomatoes.

The Baratheon king let out a great wheezing laugh at the sight before coughing, spitting up some blood. Wiping his mouth, he turned to go back to fight. The only two left on their opponents’ side were the Hound and Ser Mandon Moore. 

Thoros and Ned had Mandon surrounded while Ser Barristan, Ser Austin, Robert, and Lord Beric were chopping away at the Hound. Sandor Clegane was famous for his unbridled talent for killing. He was batting aside the warriors like they were nothing, but he couldn’t get an opening due to the superior numbers. When he finally got his opening, it was against Beric. The Hound knocked Beric’s shield out of the way and kicked him to the ground. Austin moved to intercept, but wasn’t expecting the backhand to the face, causing his mouth to fill with blood instantly. 

Clegane stepped on Beric’s shield arm before stabbing down, straight into the heart of Beric, in exactly the same spot that his brother’s lance had gone through. The Hound turned around just as Robert smacked him in the gut with his warhammer, then brought it back around and impacted the side of Sandor’s head with the heavy iron. Clegane flew several feet at the sheer force of the blow, leaving their adversaries down to only one. Ser Mandon was quickly brought to heel, however, when Thoros hamstrung him and Lord Stark cleaved him in two at the waist.

Austin sighed in relief at their victory, allowing himself to mourn the death of Jory, tears flowing from his eyes as he kneeled from exhaustion. He also felt for the death of Beric, as the man had answered the honour call and come to fight on their behalf. Strangely, though, Thoros dove onto Beric’s body and began uttering some kind of prayer.

Austin was just about to scoff when a great wheezing breath was taken by Beric. All of the assembled spectators and the surviving warriors gasped as the Lightning lord sat up. “That bastard Clegane reopened my scar,” Beric complained.

Thoros just chuckled. “Come on,” he helped Beric to his feet.

The six survivors stood in line and faced Joffrey and Cersei. “By the will of the gods, we were granted victory. Now release us!” demanded Lord Stark.

Austin’s eyes dropped at the smirk from Joffrey. He steeled himself for the coming conflict. “I want them all dead! Bring me their rotting corpses!” the blonde bastard shouted.

The three dozen guards that had escorted them here immediately sprang into action, lowering their spears towards the six survivors. Without hesitation, Austin sprang towards the way they had come in, headed for the paths. “Come on!” he shouted before dodging a spear and thrusting his sword to the hilt into the man, driving him to the ground before continuing to run. Robert batted aside another spear before smashing his warhammer into the soldier’s chest, shattering his ribcage entirely beneath his caved in breastplate. Robert was laughing all the while beneath his antlered greathelm, clearly enjoying the fighting.

Ned split a man in two straight down the middle with a swing from Ice, the two halves falling to either side. That gave them an opening, and they all sprinted through it. As Austin reached the cage of Ingavar, he struck the lock with his sword, freeing the bear, who came out in a frenzy. Clearly he was less happy about being locked up than Austin was. Austin turned back to the others. “Go! We’ll cover your escape!”

Ned opened his mouth to protest, but Austin cut him off. “I swore an oath to your wife that I would get you out of here in one piece, and I intend to do that! Now go! All of you!”

“We’ll be waiting for you at the Old Gate!” Ned yelled behind him as the five of them turned and headed back towards the city, where hopefully they could blend into the crowds and escape out the city gates. Austin grabbed Ingavar’s fur as the grizzly stood up on his hind legs and roared a challenge to the thirty three Lannister soldiers that were formed up in front of them. Austin smiled and looked up at Ingavar. “Whaddya say we teach these fools a lesson?”

The bear roared once again at the assembled Lannisters. Austin nodded. “Aye, I’ll take that as a yes.”

With that, he yelled a cry of his own and rushed into battle alongside his best friend.

* * *

Ned slammed the door of the brothel shut and bolted it. They’d lost their pursuers, and they needed a rest. Robert especially was wheezing like a ninety year old man. They all sat and attempted to catch their breath. Chataya’s brothel was one of the largest in King’s Landing, and one of the most profitable. It was run by Chataya, whom Robert knew very well. The woman brought them water as they attempted to rest.

“We can’t stay here much longer,” Beric warned.

Ned nodded. “Aye. Robert, get your fat ass up, we need to get out of here.”

The Storm lord simply laughed, blood coming up onto his lips from the wound in his side. “Ned, I’m done running. I’m too fat for it. You go. Lead them on, I’ve got a score to settle with those yellow-haired shits.”

Knowing that nothing was going to dissuade Robert, Ned bowed his head in silence for a moment. “May you rest well, my old friend.”

Robert nodded and chuckled. “We’ll see eachother again, you grim fuck, now get out of here.”

Ned smiled sadly at his oldest friend before wordlessly proceeding to the back of the brothel, where they snuck out the back door.

* * *

Austin had never done so much running and fighting. He was darting through the trees, using the vegetation as cover while he and Ingavar quite literally hunted the Lannister men. After their initial charge, they’d realized that a head on fight wasn’t going to work, so Austin yelled for Ingavar to run into the trees. He didn’t have any clue how the bear understood all of these words, but he did.

Austin crept along to the next tree before running up behind the nearest Lannister and slitting his throat just as Ingavar came into the same clearing and pounced on another Lannister, ripping the man’s arm off and tossing it aside before smacking him in the face with his massive paw.

Austin trotted over to the grizzly, breathing heavily. The bear had a few stab wounds in the shoulders from spears, but they never reached through the bear’s layers of fat. Austin suddenly got an idea of how they were to escape. He figured they’d delayed them long enough.

Austin placed a comforting hand on Ingavar’s head as he bent down to speak to his friend. “I’m going to try something we’ve never tried before.”

With that, Austin gingerly clambered up onto the bear’s back and straddled him like a horse. Ingavar’s head turned to look at Austin with a look on his face that seemed to say ‘what took you so long?’

Austin chuckled before patting Ingavar’s flank, sending the grizzly off at a lumbering run. They crashed through the undergrowth, headed North, towards Chataya’s brothel and the Old Gate. Thy came upon a pair of Lannister men, but Austin simply swung his sword down, decapitating the first man before he knew what hit him. His head flew up into the air next to Austin, and he used both of his hands to swing the flat of his blade at the flying skull. The force sent the severed head straight into the other man’s nose, knocking him over. Ingavar huffed in laughter as Austin chuckled.

They reached the dirt paths and took them to the streets out of the Dragonpit, where Austin steered Ingavar with his heels, turning the bear and winding down the streets, turning left and right before he heard hoofbeats. Looking behind him, Austin saw four mounted Lannister knights, slowly gaining ground.

Just as Austin was about to reach Chataya’s brothel, a tall, fat man with a flagon of wine in one hand and a warhammer in the other, emerged from the door. Robert Baratheon opened his visor on the front of his helmet and proceeded to pour the entire flagon of wine into it, most of it running through to his chainmail and stag surcoat, but no doubt some of it made its way into his mouth. Austin halted next to the Baratheon king. 

“Where are the others?”

Robert motioned behind him with his head. “The Old Gate, waiting for you. Go, I’ll cover your escape.”

Austin nodded and was about to take off on Ingavar again when he felt Robert’s hand reach up and grasp his shoulder. “Take care of Ned.” Austin nodded and clicked his boots against Ingavar, the bear resuming his lumbering pace.

Robert closed his sallet and faced the oncoming knights, hefting his warhammer. “Alright, who wants to die first?” he asked drunkenly before charging the knights head on. 

He threw his shoulder into the first horse, completely knocking it off its feet, rider toppling with him. Robert swung his warhammer at the next man, the knight flying out of his saddle, killed instantly by the force of Robert’s swing coupled with his speed. The third horse knocked Robert over and the fourth tripped over him, toppling to the ground as well.

Robert growled. “I may be old and fat, but I can still throw a knife!” he yelled as he produced a dagger from his belt and threw it at the only mounted man, hitting him in his left eye, killing him. The lifeless corpse slid out of the saddle and onto the cobblestones. 

Robert eyed the two remaining men. One attempted to flank him, but he charged the one in front of him before they could. He swung his warhammer, but the knight ducked under it and stabbed Robert in the back of the leg. Robert swung his warhammer backhanded, the iron spike piercing the man in the back of the head. Robert turned to face the last man, but as he did so, a sword appeared in his belly from the man. Robert dropped his warhammer and punched the man, sending the man sprawling before Robert pulled the sword out of his chest by the hilt. He stumbled towards the man, using the sword as a cane before he stabbed down into the man’s heart.

Robert fell to his knees, then onto his back, staring up at the clouds, accepting his death. At least he had the death of a warrior, he thought. As he felt the darkness of death close in on him, he saw the face of a woman that he’d all but forgotten what she looked like. Robert smiled at the sight, thinking never to see her again.

And the King Robert of the House Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm uttered his final word.

“Lyanna….”


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Austin was cold, wet, and tired. The five escapees had ridden through the night after leaving the capital, before Thoros and Beric split off, saying they still had men to lead. That left Austin, Ser Barristan, and Lord Stark with Ingavar. They were currently in the Riverlands, headed West. They’d heard the peasants talk of how the young Lord of Winterfell had smashed Jaime Lannister at Riverrun. This was news to the three of them, as they’d had no word of the outside world since their imprisonment.

Since their escape, the three men and the bear had traveled, scarcely resting, and had finally arrived at Riverrun. Cresting the hills, Austin grinned at the size of the encampment before them. Over twenty thousand Riverlanders and Northmen were assembled after the battle of Whispering Wood and the Battle of the Camps. Almost as soon as they’d taken in the sights, a dozen Stark cavalry rode up to them. Austin could only imagine what they looked like. Blood and mud stained, wet, and carrying weapons. They must have looked like common thieves and brigands, which is why they had lances pointed towards their chests.

“State your business here.”

Austin chuckled. “Don’t you fools know who we are? This is Eddard Stark, your liege lord, and I am Ser Austin Dayne, along with Ser Barristan Selmy. We demand to be taken to Lord Robb.”

The cavalrymen all glanced between eachother before one dismounted and nodded to the three travelers. “If you will accept my deepest apologies and follow me, my lords.”

Austin winked at Lord Stark, who rolled his eyes in irritation at the Dayne’s unnecessary force. They were led along the muddy paths between tents, drawing ever closer to the castle and the command tents, which were just outside its walls. Every man they passed gaped in awe at the massive grizzly bear lumbering along next to them, dutifully following Austin. When they reached the command tent, they were led inside, where they saw a dozen men gathered around a large, painted wooden table with maps of Westeros and pieces representing armies.

“Lord Eddard Stark, Ser Barristan Selmy, and Ser Austin Dayne, my lords,” announced the cavalryman before bowing and taking his leave.

Before Austin knew what hit him, he was practically tackled by a thin mess of whie hair. Austin returned the fierce embrace. “I missed you, too Edric,” he laughed. Glancing around, he saw Robb and Catelyn doing the same thing to Ned. Robb broke off and embraced Austin as well.

“How in seven hells did you escape the capital?” Robb wondered.

Austin sighed. “Long story short, we won our Trial by Seven, but were forced to fight our way out of the capital. King Robert and Jory died in the fighting,” Austin said solemnly.

Robb looked confused. “But we heard that King Robert was already dead.”

Lord Stark shook his head. “No, not dead, just imprisoned, along with Ser Barristan here.”

Robb nodded. “Well, no matter, all that does matter is that you’re here, alive and well.”

* * *

Lord Stark immediately fell into his leadership role, as he was a seasoned military commander and soldier. Robb looked relieved to have such burdens lifted off of his shoulders, and gladly relinquished his role as the leader of the army.

Austin and Ned were in the command tent for what seemed like hours, being caught up on everything that had transpired. When they were finally given leave to wash up, Austin immediately strolled down to the river with Ingavar and Edric in tow. The knight jumped into the cold water to wash up as the grizzly began to look for fish. When Austin was clean, he got out and dried off before getting dressed and sitting down next to Edric.

“I heard you fought in your first battle,” Austin broached.

Edric chuckled. “Aye, at least until the Kingslayer ran me through the shoulder.”

Austin nodded. “I’ve only faced him once, but it wasn’t a real fight, and we were interrupted.”

“Well, regardless, it’s good to have you back. We need all the warriors we can get, considering we’re outnumbered two to one in this war, even with the Riverlords. There’s going to be a council tonight to decide our next course of action,” Edric stated.

Austin scoffed. “As many lords are going to be there, I doubt they’ll get anything accomplished. Two men in a room can do more than a hundred.”

Edric laughed. “Unless you need to fight a war.”

* * *

“The proper course is clear. Pledge fealty to King Renly and move South to join our forces with his,” said one of the Riverlords, Jason Mallister, Austin thought he was.

There were at least fifty lords and knights attending the council, all the great houses in the North and the Riverlands. Lord Stark was seated in the middle with his son and wife, Austin and Edric were sitting off to the side, not trying to draw too much attention to themselves.

“Renly is not the king,” Robb stated. 

“You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey. He put your father in chains and almost had him killed,” Lord Mallister stressed.

“That doesn’t make Renly king,” Lord Stark stated. “If Benjen couldn’t be Lord of Winterfell before me, Renly can’t be king before Stannis.”

Lord Mallister turned to Ned. “Do you suggest we declare for Stannis, my lord?”

“Renly is not right!” Galbart Glover agreed from one side.

The rest of the lords began talking and bickering amongst themselves, and Austin gave Edric an ‘I told you so’ look, causing the rightful Lord of Starfall to roll his eyes. All of a sudden, Lord Greatjon Umber stood up.

“Oh, this’ll be good,” Edric remarked humorously.

Austin raised an eyebrow at that and turned back to the Greatjon. “My lords! My lords! Here is what I say to these two kings,” he exclaimed, spitting into the ground. “Renly Baratheon is nothing to me! Nor Stannis neither! Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of the Wall, or the Wolfswood?”

Austin whole heartedly agreed with that. Even most of the Northern lords didn’t have any idea about the Wolfswood. None of them had spent nine years alone in it like he had.

“Even their gods are wrong!” the Greatjon stated, generating laughter from most lords in assembly. “Why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we bowed to, and now the dragons are dead!” the Greatjon said before drawing his sword, pointing it at Ned. “There sits the only king I mean to bend my knee to. The King in the North!”

Austin’s eyes rose in extreme surprise, as all the other lords did as well. Most of them stayed silent out of the shock. Lord Stark himself looked surprised before slowly rising, accepting the responsibilities that his lord was placing on him.

Lord Cerwyn rose to his feet. “I’ll have peace on those terms. They can keep their Red Castle, and their iron chair too. The King in the North!”

Austin took this opportunity to rise and draw his own sword, approaching Ned. “I owe you everything, Lord Stark. My life, my honour,” Austin said before kneeling. “My sword is yours, in victory or defeat, from this day until my last day. The King in the North!”

“THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE KING IN THE NORTH!”

* * *

Austin felt back at home again. Wrapped in a warm Stark fur cloak with his breastplate underneath and a sword at his side, surrounded by his adoptive family. Nothing could make him happier. Ingavar was at his side, and the two were on their way to do something very special. Austin found the blacksmiths at one of the camp’s borders, and opened the tent to allow himself in.

“What can I do for you, my lord?” one of them asked.

Austin opened the tent flap wider, allowing Ingavar to stick his head in. “I need a suit of armour forged for my friend here. If he’s to go into battle with us, I wouldn’t want him getting killed.”

The blacksmith nodded. “Aye, my lord. It’ll be tricky, but I believe it can be done, as long as I have the right measurements of him.”

Austin grinned, scratching Ingavar behind his ears. He brought the bear into the tent and patted his fur as the blacksmith walked around the grizzly, measuring several places and lengths and distances. When he was done, Austin thanked the man and proceeded towards the now King Eddard’s command tent. Walking in, he saw Lord Umber and Lady Mormont already inside. 

Ned turned around. “Ah, Austin. What is it?”

“A word in private if I may, Your Grace?”

Ned nodded and motioned with his head for the two occupants to make their way out. They nodded to Ned before taking their leave. As soon as they’d gone, Austin turned to Ned. “Your Grace, there is something I wish to ask.”

Ned chuckled. “You don’t have to call me Your Grace when no one’s around. What is it?”

Austin nodded. “I swore to your wife that I’d bring you back to her, and I’ve done that. But now I wish to take another oath. I wish to become the first of your Kingsguard.”

Ned’s eyes rose as Austin knelt. “Aye. Ser Austin Dayne, I appoint you to be the Lord Commander of my Kingsguard.”

Austin smiled and rose when King Stark bade him. “I will not fail you.”

“You never have,” Ned nodded. “I also task you with choosing the other seven members. As we do not follow the Seven, they do not have to be knights.”

Austin bowed. “As you will, Your Grace,” he said before straightening and marching from the tent, knowing exactly who his first recruit was.

* * *

Austin found the correct tent and knocked on the post. “Come in,” came the answer.

Austin stepped inside and surveyed the tent. It was plain, a simple bed the only thing of note, other than the golden armour on the stand.

“What is it, Ser Austin?” Ser Barristan asked.

One corner of Austin’s mouth rose in amusement. “Ser Barristan, I’ve just been named Lord Commander of Ned’s Kingsguard, and he’s given me leave to find the remaining six members. I wish you to be my first recruit.”

Ser Barristan’s eyes twinkled at the prospect. “All my life I’ve spent serving terrible kings. Maybe now I’ve finally found a cause worth serving. I accept your offer, Lord Commander,” Ser Barristan said, nodding in Austin’s direction. 

The rest of the members of the Kingsguard were chosen among the sons of the highest lords of the northern houses. Ser Wendel Manderly, Ser Marlon Manderly, Larence Snow, Beren Tallhart, and Rickard Ryswell all agreed to take a place. His new Kingsguard assembled, Austin felt ready to follow Ned into whatever battles were to come.

* * *

“Lord Commander! Come to gloat? Or perhaps you enjoy my company?” Jaime teased as Austin was admitted into the wooden cage that served as the Kingslayer’s prison.

Austin scoffed. “Shove it up your ass, Lannister. We both know the only woman you enjoy is your sister.”

Jaime’s eyes rose in surprise and fear at that. Austin smirked in triumph. “Oh, aye. Despite the fact that King Eddard discovered it himself, Stannis Baratheon sent ravens to all the lords, saying that Joffrey and Tommen are your bastard sons.”

Jaime composed himself. “Well if that’s true, Stannis is the rightful king, how convenient for him.”

Austin chuckled. “Aye, but I believe it. You seem the type.”

“You talk high when I’m in chains. Why don’t you take these off and we can settle this here and now?” Jaime demanded.

Austin shook his head, grinning at the taunt. “No, we’ve tried this before. I challenged you on the streets of King’s Landing, but you were too much of a coward to face me. And here you are. Chained up in the mud. I would slit your throat for stabbing my cousin, but King Stark wants you alive so he can ransom his daughters.”

Jaime chuckled. “My father would take that trade in a heart beat. You’re fools to give me up for such a low price.”

Austin smirked. “You are a naive little oathbreaker, aren’t you?” he said before turning on his heel and leaving the Kingslayer alone in the mud, seething in anger.

* * *

“We need to take Golden Tooth and destroy Tywin’s new army at Oxcross. They’ll be inexperienced, and easy prey,” Ser Barristan advised.

Ned shook his head. “No, we’d lose too many men trying to take the castles between here and Oxcross. And to go North would take too long. We remain here and let the Lannisters come to us.”

Robb cleared his throat. “If I may, father. Grey Wind and I discovered a secret mountain pass while on a scouting party two days ago. It takes us straight through, to Oxcross. We bypass all the castles and defeat their army in the field.”

Ned weighed the options for a moment before coming to a decision. “Alright, Robb. We take the pass. Tell the men to ready for march.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

“You are Ser Alton Lannister?” Ned asked.

They were currently in the command tent, and Ned was seated, Austin standing behind him. The rest of the lords were strewn about the tent. In front of them, a young lad, no older than Robb stood, bearing the signature golden hair of the Lannisters. He was a young knight captured in the recent battle of Oxcross, a resounding victory for the combined North and Riverland forces.

The Lannister nodded. “I am, Your Grace.”

“I offer your cousins peace if they meet our terms. First, they must return my daughter, Sansa. Second, they must return the bones of the men killed in my service, as well as King Robert’s remains to Storm’s End,” King Ned stated.

“An honourable request, Your Grace,” Ser Alton acknowledged, but Ned wasn’t done.

“Third, Joffrey and the Queen Regent must renounce all claim to dominion of the North and the Riverlands. From this time, until the end of time, we are a free and independent kingdom.”

“The King in the North,” Ser Rodrik agreed from the side, others joining in the saying.

Ned’s eyes shone with determination and fury. “Neither Joffrey nor any of his men will set foot in our lands again. If he should disregard this command, then he shall suffer the same fate as his father. Only I will kill him myself.”

* * *

Austin sat quietly on the riverbank, leaning back into the soft, brown fur of Ingavar, the two enjoying the quiet flow of the water. Austin was cleaning his sword while Ingavar snoozed, both trying to wind down from the recent battle. Austin had ridden Ingavar in the cavalry assault, shattering the lines of the hastily-assembled Lannisters, making way for the footsoldiers and the vanguard to mop up the rest. Several high-ranking Lannister officers and knight had been captured.

Austin was roused from his thoughts as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Turning, he saw the tall form of his cousin. Smiling lightly, Austin motioned for Edric to take a seat, the latter obliging. 

“What’s on your mind?” Edric pried. He’d become irritatingly good at reading Austin’s moods and expressions.

Austin sighed. “I was thinking of my father, and what he’d think of us now.”

Edric’s eyes softened. Neither of them had known Ser Arthur,, the Sword of the Morning very well, only meeting on a few occasions due to the man’s Kingsguard duties. “You know I can’t answer that question. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of us. We lost our home, yet we are flourishing. You’re following your in father’s footsteps, the Lord Commander of the Wolfguard,” Edric offered.

Austin had decided to change the name of Ned’s Kingsguard to the Wolfguard, to avoid confusion when talking of enemies and battle plans. Also, the name simply fit the rugged band of warriors that made up its number.

Austin sighed. “The worst part is, I don’t even know how he died. Sure we heard the vague tale that Lord Stark told our Aunt, but I don’t know the details.”

“You mean you’ve never asked Ned?” Edric asked.

Austin shook his head. “No. It’s always one thing after the other. I’d intended to ask him when I came back from the Wolfswood, but it hardly seemed like the time, with the gravity of the situation we were in. And then everything just built itself up from there. I still don’t think it’s the right time.”

Edric shook his head. “What better time is there? The both of you might die at any point in the next battle. Better to ask now than never get the chance.”

Austin’s eyes met the matching violet of his cousin’s. Though Austin was the senior, he noticed Edric carried himself with a new air of authority. “You’ve become a fine lord, Edric, and you’re right. I’ll talk to him right now. Look after Ingavar for me, will you?” Austin asked as he clambered to his feet and started back towards camp, strapping on his sword belt as he went.

Edric nodded. “You got it, Austin,” he said too softly for his cousin to hear. Edric turned to Ingavar. The massive grizzly stared back at him with inquisitive eyes and began to sniff. 

“Oh, great. Come on, let’s get you some food before you eat me,” Edric chuckled.

* * *

Austin stood outside the command tent that he knew the now King Stark was inside of, planning their next move. Taking a deep breath, Austin steeled himself in his purpose before pushing aside the flap and entering. There were only a few lords with Ned, so Austin did not feel as bad as if he’d be inconveniencing a larger group. He stopped in front of the table and waited for Ned’s eyes to come up and greet him.

“Ah, Austin. What is it? I thought I gave you the day?” Ned asked curiously.

Austin nodded. “Aye, you did. But there is something I wished to speak of, Your Grace. In private, if it please.”

Ned met Austin’s hard purple eyes and slowly nodded. “Leave us,” he said th the assembled lords. They all bowed and filed out one by one. Ned motioned for Austin to take a seat as he rose to pour two glasses of wine. He could tell from Austin’s expression and tone that they’d need them.

When he turned back around and sat back down, he passed one of the cups to Austin, who took it and downed it in one go. The liquid helped to settle his nerves as he stared back at Ned. 

“So. What is it?” Ned asked.

Austin paused for a few seconds, reading the older man’s eyes before blurting out, “How did my father die?”

Ned froze with his cup halfway to his lips. He slowly lowered it back down to the table, and his head dropped. “I knew this was coming eventually. By all the gods, I’d hoped you’d forgotten about it. Clearly, you were only biding your time. My only question for you is why now?”

“Because of this war. I don’t want either of us to die with secrets between us,” Austin answered honestly.

Ned nodded. “Aye, I suppose that is as good a reason as any. Very well, I will tell the tale that only one other alive knows.”

Austin shifted in his chair, leaning forward to catch every detail of Ned’s story.

“It was mere weeks after the end of the Rebellion. I’d just broken the siege of Storm’s End when I caught wind of your father and Lord Commander Hightower. My best men and I followed their trail so a small tower in the middle of the Dornish marches. I would later learn the name: The Tower of Joy.”

Ned paused and took a sip of his wine, still refusing to meet Austin’s gaze. “There were six of us. Myself, Lord Howland Reed, Martyn Cassel-Jory’s father, Willam Dustin, and two others whose names I’ve quite forgotten. As you know, only myself and Lord Howland survived. Anyways, when we arrived, we were faced with your father and Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, the White Bull. I was terrified. Two of the best swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms stood between me and my sister. For some reason, they seemed almost sorry that they had to do it, but they were following their dead prince’s orders, letting no one enter. Both sides drew swords, and gods help us, we fought. Howland fell early, with that massive gash across his chest he received from your father. Gerold and your father whittled down our numbers until by a stroke of luck, I struck the White bull in the throat.”

Austin listened to every detail of the story, his face as hard and unmoving as stone. Ned continued after a brief pause.

“When i turned around, your father had just run Willam Dustin through, and he turned to face me. Now, you may not know this, most likely because no one else does, but your father fought with a longsword in either hand that day. The entirety of the Seven Kingdoms thought he was great with one sword, but with two, the man was invincible. He was a beautiful, deadly, horrifying whirlwind of blood. As we stared eachother down, I saw the same eyes you now possess. That steely, emotionally detached gaze has haunted my dreams for nearly two decades. But there I was, one sword against two, man to man, engaged in a duel to the death with your father. I was on the defensive from the first sword clash, and I became increasingly desperate. After several exchanges, I attempted a foolhardy thrust, and was disarmed. Your father looked at me almost apologetically as he raised the star-forged Dawn to end my life. And he would’ve succeeded, if it weren’t for the dagger Lord Howland shoved into his back. Arthur fell to his knees, and gods forgive me, I picked up Dawn and struck the final blow. It turned out to be all for naught, as I found my sister dead in the Tower of Joy. Never was there a more ironic place for such an event.”

Ned finally raised his sad, brown eyes to meet Austin’s. “So there you have it. What do you plan to do with the information?”

Austin’s fists were clenched so hard that they could be mistaken as snowballs. He dropped his eyes to the oak of the table and slammed a fist on the table. “I can’t do anything. You’ve become like a father to me. And as much as I want to hate you, I simply can’t. You have done more than enough for Edric and I to make up for your past transgressions. But a son cannot help but feel anger for the death of his father.”

Ned nodded. “Aye. I know all too well what you are feeling. My brother and father were burned alive by Wildfire in front of the entire Royal Court. I do not blame you for being angry. I do ask that you can find some way to forgive me. I can’t have my Lord Commander slitting my throat in my sleep.”

Austin allowed a small smile at that. He shook his head and rose from the table. “I forgive you, old man. See you tomorrow, Your Grace.”

* * *

“Austin!”

The tall Dayne turned to see Edric running up to him. As the past few days had been uneventful, Austin was grateful to have something happening that would make Edric run. “What is it?”

Edric paused, out of breath. “King Stark has called a meeting, he wants to discuss our next move. Your presence is required, as well as mine, it seems.”

Austin lifted one eyebrow in confusion. Edric being invited to one of these meetings was rare, and never for something this important. Austin motioned for Edric to lead the way as they set off towards the command tent. When they entered, they were immediately greeted with a wall of fur cloaks. The tent was packed. Evidently, Ned had wanted every conceivable idea that his top generals had to offer. Austin shoved his way through the bodies to reach his reserved seat at the table. Edric stood behind him and folded his arms as the two of them took in the scene.

Ned nodded. “Now that all are present, I would like to open the discussions of our next course of action. We are on the Lannister Homeland’s doorstep, yet we do not have the men to mount a siege of Casterly Rock. And I, for one, do not wish to be caught between the jaws of the lion, and the cliffs of the Rock.”

“We should retreat! Fall back to the Twins with our victorious forces and ready for the next assault from Lord Tywin!” Galbart Glover advocated.

“If we do that, we’d be sacrificing all the ground we’ve gained to this point. The Twins is much too far. Riverrun should be the rallying point, so we can strike out against Tywin at Harrenhal,” the Greatjon shot back.

Catelyn Stark, who Austin now supposed was Queen in the North, stood from her seat next to her husband. “What we need is allies. We do not have the men to siege King’s Landing or Casterly Rock. There are two other armies that hate the Lannisters as much as we do. If not more. Renly and Stannis Baratheon. The only problem is they hate eachother almost as much as they hate the Lannisters,” Lady Stark finished, resuming her seated position, having offered her subject to discuss.

Austin nodded. “Aye, it’s said Renly has a hundred thousand men. With them, we could launch a counterattack on th capital and capture that blonde whore and her cunt of a son. Pardon the language, my lady.”

Catelyn shook her head. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“That is all good and well, but how do we convince them to join our cause? They both clearly want the throne for themselves, and I suspect that neither of them will take kindly to half of their kingdom seceding after this war is over,” Ned detailed.

The tent was silent for several seconds as no one had an answer. Except for one person. “I have a solution,” Edric blurted from behind Austin.

“What is it,, Edric?” Ned asked.

“If we are to win this war, we need Renly’s men. Though you may argue that Stannis is the rightful king now, there is simply no way that he can defeat his brother in the field. We only need the support of Renly. With that, we would have the strongest military alliance in the Seven Kingdoms. The combined might of the North, Riverlands, Reach, and Stormlands would crush the Lannisters. And if Stannis still chooses to oppose the throne afterwards, we will leave the two brothers to squabble amongst themselves. The North and the Riverlands are fighting for their individual independence, anyways. Once we have it, who cares what happens to the other six kingdoms?”

A clamor of calls burst out, adding weight to Edric’s argument. Until an older man, with flowing white hair and scale leather armour stepped forward. “There’s only one problem with that. Stannis could flank Renly when he besieges the capital, and between Stannis’ forces, and the Lannister garrison, Renly may fall, or at the very least, take heavy casualties. The only way for us to end this war as quickly and seamlessly as possible is to come to an agreement with both brothers,” the Blackfish, Brynden Tully detailed.

Ned nodded. “I agree. Any objections? Good. Edric Dayne, you will be my emissary to Renly. Robb, you are to go to Stannis. The rest of us will fall back to Riverrun through the mountain pass. Dismissed.”

As the other lords filed out, Austin and Edric remained behind with Robb to speak with Ned. “The two of you are absolutely critical the the success of this campaign. I don’t think I need to explain how much we need these alliances. Robb, since you’ll be travelling through hostile territory through your entire journey, I’m sending Austin and the cousins Manderly with you. Barristan will sit in your place while you are gone, Austin. Edric, take Theon, you could use an extra sword.”

“I must say, I don’t like leaving your side, but if it is to protect your heir, then I will obey,” Austin bowed before turning on his heel and throwing the flap of the tent open as he exited into the night.

* * *

Ingavar was gnawing on a cow’s leg next to Austin’s tent when the Dayne approached. “Hey, boy. Eat up, we’re heading out tomorrow. It’s a long walk, so you’ll need your strength.”

Austin still had no clue how, but it seems the bear understood what Austin was trying to say, as he renewed his assault on the tough beef, tearing at it with his teeth and claws. Austin chuckled to himself as he sat down on a severed tree stump to clean his sword. It had become a habit over the years for Austin to wash the deadly steel, as it helped him relax. He was set in his task until he saw Robb off in the distance, holding hands with a woman Austin didn’t recognize. He watched the two stroll along until Robb halted and dropped to one knee in front of the girl. He held her hand in his and kissed it. This was followed by happy squeaking and a fierce kiss. Austin looked over at Ingavar, the two sharing a look that seemed to say ‘that’s not good.’

Austin wordlessly sheathed his sword and started off towards the command tent for the umpteenth time. He didn’t even bother announcing himself, as he strode right up to the main table and halted in front of Ned. “Excuse the interruption, but there is an important matter that has just come up that could jeopardize our entire cause. Robb’s just gotten himself engaged.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Ned tilted his head awkwardly at Austin. “Aye, I know. I’m afraid you’re a bit late on that, lad.”

Austin rolled his eyes. “No, I mean he’s met another woman and just asked her hand. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Ned’s eyes widened. He turned to Catelyn with a worried expression. “If word of this reaches the Freys, we will no longer have allies at our back. We would be up against the jaws of the lion and the impenetrable fortress of the Twins.”

Catelyn nodded. “I agree. We need to speak with our son. Now.”

Austin held up a hand. “Allow me, my lady. I’m sure I can talk some sense into him without him hating me, as will inevitably happen if his parents speak to him about this.”

Ned sighed and waved a hand. “Go, and report back your success.”

Austin bowed and turned on his heel, back into the brisk air of the night. He immediately made a beeline for Edric’s tent, knocking on the post. His younger cousin emerged a mere seconds later. “What is it?”   
  


“We have a problem, it’s concerning Robb. He’s made a rather rash decision.”

* * *

The two Daynes found their quarry on the riverbank, bathing in the moonlight and humming a tune. It was inherently obvious that the young lad was in a great mood. Austin did care for Robb’s happiness, but he cared for the lives of every person in this army camp even more.

“Robb,” Austin called.

The young wolf turned at the voice and smiled when he saw the two white-haired men. “Ah, come, join me. I was just having a quiet thought away from the village.”

Austin hesitantly sat on one side of the Stark, while Edric chose the other. They sat in silence for a few moments before Edric broke the ice. “We need to talk.”

Robb tilted his head. “What about?”

“I think you know perfectly well what about. I saw you earlier. You’ve pledged yourself to another woman,” Austin accused.

Robb shrugged. “What of it? Now that Father’s here, we shouldn’t have to uphold the deal we made to cross at the Twins.”

Edric shook his head. “No, Lord Walder will take this as a personal offense, and he could very well end his alliance with us.”

Robb shrugged again. “Why should we care? Our army is strong enough to take the Twins if they betray us.”

Austin pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You damned fool. If we lay siege to the Twins, Tywin Lannister will get wind in two days, and then we’ll be slaughtered between the jaws of the lion and an impenetrable fortress. Don’t you get it? The only reason we were even able to begin this war was because of that alliance you made. If you break that, we all could die.”

Robb was silent for several moments before lowering his head in defeat. “But I love her. Talisa. I know you’re right, but I love her.”

Edric scoffed. “You think your mother and father were in love when they first met? No, they were strangers, just like all arranged marriages. Their love was built over time, from trust, and bondage. They didn’t have such luxuries. Your father married your mother to win a war. You now have the opportunity to do the same, don’t disgrace your family and name because of a simple attachment.”

Robb’s eyes began to water. “Aye,” he whispered. “I’ll end it, just give me tonight. That’s all I ask.”

Austin and Edric shared a glance and nodded their understanding. The two rose, and Austin placed a comforting hand on Robb’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright, given time, your wounds will heal.”

* * *

Austin strode with confidence into the command tent, immediately commanding the full attention of his King and Queen. “It’s done, Edric and I talked him down, you shouldn’t have any more problems with tha-”

Austin was interrupted by a guard bursting in, out of breath. “Apologies Your Grace, but your son Robb was seen riding from camp with a woman several minutes ago.”

Austin immediately slumped.  _ Fucking great. I think I talk him down, but in reality, I scare him away, _ he scolded himself. The Dayne raised apologetic eyes to the King in the North. “I’ll go after them. It’s my responsibility.”

Ned held up a hand. “No, you’ve done enough. I’ll send a patrol after them. You still have a task ahead of you tomorrow. Only now, you’ll have to convince Stannis yourself. Get some rest, Lord Commander. You have an early start.”

Austin’s shoulders slumped and he gave a half-hearted bow before trudging from the tent. He never looked up from his feet until he was in his bed, tossing and turning in frustration.

* * *

Austin sat up when the darkness outside turned to pale gray. He hadn’t had a single wink of sleep all night, thinking about the decision Robb had made despite their conversation. The master swordsman swung his legs over the bed and placed them in his boots, pushing off to rise to his full height. Once his armor and cloak were fastened, he strapped on his sword belt and grabbed his helmet, holding it under one hand. 

Throwing ope the flap of his tent, he glanced down to his right, where his best friend, the massive bear Ingavar slept. Noticing the first rays of golden sunlight begin to shine over the horizon, Austin decided to wake the bear. Nudging the grizzly with the tip of his boot caused him to open one eye and tilt his head to look at Austin. “Come on, we’ve got a long day ahead of us,” he said.

As if Ingavar understood everything that Austin said, he rose to all fours, standing nearly at Austin’s shoulder height. Seconds later, Edric emerged from his tent, bleary-eyed and yawning. His shoulder-length white hair was unkempt and his armor was loose, owing to the fact that Edric was too tired to fasten them properly. Taking notice of Austin, Edric nodded, receiving one in turn. 

“Going to be a long day,” he muttered, drawing a small chuckle from Austin.

“I said the same thing to him,” Austin motioned with his thumb to the bear behind him.

Edric smirked and stood up to his full height. He approached Austin and wrapped the older Dayne in a tight embrace. When they released, Edric clapped Austin on the shoulder. “Good luck,” he offered.

Austin tipped his head. “You too.”

The two parted ways, Edric joining with Theon, and Austin with the cousins, Wendel and Marlon Manderly. Hauling himself into the saddle, Austin clicked his heels, setting the horse off towards their destination.

* * *

Arya had to admit, the walls of Harrenhal were tall. Not as tall as the ones at King’s Landing, perhaps, but that was probably due to the fact that they’d been melted by dragonfire many centuries before. As impressed as she was by the high walls of the castle, she hated its occupants with a passion. Lannister soldiers with their red armor and stupidly-designed helmets. She would have laughed at them if it wouldn’t draw attention to her. 

Beside her, Gendry and Hotpie crouched, heads down, trying not to draw attention to themselves. Their instincts were born of a life growing up in the streets of King’s Landing. Her, on the other hand, Arya was far too curious to simply keep her head down. At least until the man who chooses came back. 

Hotpie stared directly at the man, desperately trying to control his bladder this time. The man scanned the crowd of prisoners before extending his hand. “You.”

Following his finger, Arya was led to Gendry. The smith’s apprentice was strapped to the chair, and the bucket was placed on his chest, same as the others. Only this time, his torturers never got to start. At the gates of Harrenhal, a clean, older man with a stark white horse rode in, bringing his steed to a halt. Dismounting, he glanced at the holding pen. Without looking, he asked the Mountain, “Why are these prisoners not in their cells?”

“The cells are overflowing, my lord.”

Off to the side, Pulliver began an explanation. “This lot won’t be here long. Don’t need no permanent place. After we interrogate them, we usually just…” he trailed off, motioning to the heads mounted above the pen.

“Are we so well-manned that we can afford to discard able young bodies and skilled laborers?” Tywin asked, silencing Pulliver. The lord straightened and walked past the soldier, up to Gendry.

“You. Do you have a trade?” he asked.

Gendry nodded uneasily. “Smith, my lord.”

Tywin’s eyebrows rose and he looked back to Pulliver and the interrogator with a smug face. Not one to be embarrassed, Pulliver glanced to the pen, noticing Arya standing and watching. Drawing his sword, Pulliver pointed it directly at her chest.

“Kneel, or I’ll carve your lungs out, boy.”

Tywin walked over to lean on the fence post. “You’ll do no such thing. This one’s a girl, you idiot. Dressed as a boy, why?”

“Safer to travel, my lord,” Arya answered honestly.

Tywin smirked. “Smart. More than I can say for this lot. Get these prisoners to work. Bring the girl. I need a new cupbearer.”

And so, as Arya was led to the lord’s chambers in the tallest tower, she wondered what her family was doing. She had no way of knowing if her father had even survived the trial that Austin had demanded for them, nor if Austin or Jory had survived for that matter. Yoren was supposed to escort her to Winterfell, but the Gold Cloaks’ business with Gendry had royally fucked that up. Her only hope now would be to escape and make her way north alone.

* * *

After two weeks of hard riding and avoiding Lannister patrols, Austin and his two fellow Wolfguard had reached the ferry that would take them to Dragonstone. As the dark waves jostled the ship, Austin felt an unusual feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t until he vomited over the side that he realized it was seasickness. His companions, being Manderlys, only laughed at his suffering, for their house was a seafaring house. 

When they reached the sandy shore, Austin fought the urge to kiss the walls of the jagged black rocks that rose around them. A small group of men loyal to Stannis had formed to greet them. The tallest one of them stepped forward to speak to Austin once he and his northmen neared. 

“I am captain of the guard here on Dragonstone. May I ask what your visit entails?”

“I am Ser Austin Dayne. This is Wendel and Marlon Manderly. We request an audience with King Stannis,” Austin informed, raising the sealed letter from King Stark. “We have a message for him.”

The captain shook his head regretfully. “My king is not on Dragonstone, but I can take the message for him.”

“We were told to hand it directly to Stannis, no one else,” the Dayne said, placing the letter back into the folds of his robe.

The captain stiffened, clearly insulted for a brief time before relaxing once again. “You’re in luck. A small fleet of men is headed out in a few hours to join him. You’re welcome to accompany us.”

Austin fought the urge to roll his eyes, simply nodding. “Thank you.”

He looked back over his shoulder as they followed the captain and his men. “Great, more sea travel,” he muttered, only causing his two companions to laugh once again.

* * *

As Edric and Theon crested a green hill that overlooked the shore below, they marveled at the sight of the encampment before them. The self-proclaimed King Renly’s army stretched for miles in either direction, covering the sea shore with canvas. The host of the Stormlands alone would have been an impressive sight, but when they were combined with the soldiers of the Reach, it was the largest army currently in Westeros.

The two messengers were surrounded within moments by mounted sentries and escorted towards the camp. While initially hostile, the soldiers calmed down once Edric had stated their business, confirming that they were not spies for Stannis. On the way, Edric leaned over to Theon.

“Remember, whether he is the rightful king or not, we will address him as one.”

Theon raised an eyebrow. “Why? He’s not the rightful king. He’s a lord.”

“Yes,” Edric nodded. “But to secure this alliance, we need to stay on his good side, not anger him.”

Theon begrudgingly agreed as the two dismounted, tethering their horses to a nearby post. The group of sentries then escorted them towards a massive throng of soldiers, all cheering and holding mugs of ale. When the sentries cleared a path to the front, Edric saw that it was a melee. It was muddy from all the pairs of boots that had disturbed the ground, but only two combatants were left.

One was a shorter, more lean fighter with a battleaxe clutched in his hands. He wore silver armor and flowers and vines decorating his helmet. Edric knew this to be Ser Loras Tyrell. The other was much taller, easily exceeding Edric’s own height of six foot two. Their bronze armor and mace were formidable, utilizing great power attacks against Ser Loras’ defenses. The match finally ended, however, when the bronze warrior disarmed Loras and flipped him over their shoulder before pulling a dagger on him, forcing a yield.

The two combatants rose from the mud, Ser Loras tossing his helmet off to the side in frustration, while the other faced the raised wooden dais where King Renly sat with who Edric assumed to be his bride, Margaery Tyrell. The two were wed to secure the allegiance of House Tyrell and the Reach.

Renly was leading the applause for the victor. “Well fought! Approach,” he commanded, waving his hand.

The large warrior in bronze nodded and strode forward, dropping to their knee in the mud. “Rise, remove your helm!” Renly called.

In that moment, Edric’s eyes saw something he never thought they’d see. Underneath the helmet, was a woman. The most massive woman Edric had ever seen, to be quite frank. King Renly only responded with a simple smirk, having clearly known who was underneath all along.

The crowd surrounding Edric and Theon went in an uproar in surprise and anger that a woman could beat the Knight of the Flowers. “You are all your father promised and more, my lady. I’ve seen Ser Loras bested once or twice, but never quite in that fashion,” Edric heard Renly say.

“Now, now, my love. My brother fought valiantly for you,” Margaery protested.

Renly nodded with a polite smile. “That he did, my queen. But there can be only one champion! Brienne of Tarth, you may ask anything of me you desire. If it is within my power, it is yours.”

Brienne knelt down once again. “Your Grace, I ask the honor of a place in your Kingsguard. I will be one of your seven, pledge my life to yours, and keep you safe from all harm.”

The uproars reached a new height as the surrounding soldiers, including Ser Loras, protested. Edric even heard Theon snicker beside him, but a well-placed stomp on the Ironborn’s foot shut him up. Renly seemed to be weighing it in his head, a passive smile plastered on his face for several moments.

“Done!” he finally called. “Rise, Brienne of the Kingsguard!” The Baratheon began smacking his gloved hands together in applause, the crowd following suit. Edric even patted his hands together lightly after taking his gloves off before nodding to the sentry next to him. 

“Let me do the talking,” Edric whispered to Theon.

The two messengers made their way to the center of the field, directly in front of the wooden dais where Renly sat with his bride. Brienne had moved off to the left side, still in range to do her new duties as a member of the Kingsguard. The sentry bowed deeply to Renly in greeting.

“Your Grace, I present Lord Edric Dayne and Theon Greyjoy, sent as emissaries by Lord Eddard Stark.”

Edric took one pace forward. “My apologies Your Grace, it’s actually  _ KIng _ Eddard Stark, the King in the North.”

Renly’s eyes bore into Edric for a few moments. “Lord Edric, may I present my wife, Lady Margaery of the House Tyrell.”

Edric and Theon bowed simultaneously to the lady. “You are very welcome here, Lord Edric. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Edric raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon, what loss are you referring to?”

“Why the loss of your Aunt and your castle of Starfall of course,” Lady Margaery said sweetly.

Edric nodded. “My thanks, my Lady, but that was many years ago, I’ve forgotten the events entirely.”

This wasn’t true in the slightest, for the memories had been etched into his brain forever. But present company did not have to know that, for he would get no true sympathy. He could tell just from Lady Margaery’s two sentences that she was a shrewd politician, and knew how to manipulate people. She had just attempted it on Edric, aiming to emotionally compromise him before the negotiations could begin.

“Has your Lord Stark marched against Tywin Lannister yet?” Loras asked in a rude manner.

Edric fought the urge to scoff, thankful that he was sent here and not Austin. The older Dayne’s temper could get the better of him when surrounded by many accusing voices. “I’ll not share war strategies with those who are not yet our allies.”

Loras snorted. “If your Lord Stark wants an alliance with us he should come himself, not send two messengers who aren’t related to him.”

“My  _ King _ ,” Edric paused to look at Loras. “Is fighting a war. He certainly doesn’t have time for melees and feasts.”

Renly visibly clenched up at that, eyes studying Edric’s calm demeanor with some Baratheon fire behind them. He rose slowly to his feet, eyes never leaving Edric’s. He seemed to be deciding whether to kill them or listen to them. He must have decided on the latter, because he smirked and descended the wooden steps in front of him.

“Our war is just beginning,” he said, brushing past the white-haired Dayne and motioning for the two messengers to follow.

Edric fell into step next to him, Theon and Brienne trailing behind. “You’ve traveled a long way, Lord Dayne. Was it solely to insult me? Or do you have some ulterior motive for that?”

“I didn’t come here to insult you, nor did I come here to be insulted. I came here to do what I do best: negotiate. But if I must clash with every piss-brained Knight of the Flowers along the way, then I will,” Edric stated firmly.

Renly halted in his tracks, turning to face Edric. “You don’t think very highly of my men, do you?”

“That’s not it, Your Grace,” Edric shook his head. “But I have seen a taste of war at the Whispering Wood. I was nearly killed by the Kingslayer, but a story for another time. My point is, most of these men won’t be smiling after their first battle. They see you as a deity, but you’re only playing a game with them.”

Renly’s jaw clenched, a vein popping out of his temple. “Brienne, escort our guests to their tent. I’m sure they are tired from their long journey.”

As Renly took his leave, Edric and Theon bowed lightly while Brienne strode off in the opposite direction. “This way, my lords.” Edric glanced to Theon with a shrug, following the large warrior woman. 

“You seem well-trained,” the Greyjoy commented.

Brienne nodded. “I was.”

“Have you been fighting long, Lady Brienne?” Edric asked.

She nodded again. “My whole life. And it’s just Brienne. I’m no lady.”

* * *

Austin vaulted over the side of the boat and helped haul it onto shore with its crew and the cousins Manderly. Several hundred yards away, a small encampment of black tents and banners of a stag within a flaming heart. They had been told that King Stannis could be found there before the man went droning on about the Lord of Light, whoever that was.

As they were escorted up the beach, Austin began to work out his negotiation strategy. He had to hand it to Ned, the old man knew what he was doing, sending him to talk to Stannis. Only a warrior’s mind cold get through to another, and the same was for politicians, which is why Edric was sent to work on Renly.

When they were ushered inside the command tent, Austin’s eyes had to take a few moments to adjust. To his left stood an older man with short white hair and a white beard. Behind him stood a man who could only be his son, judging from their matching noses and eyes. In the center of the room sat a round, wooden table with a map of Westeros upon it. A tall, broad-shouldered man hunched over it, staring at the pieces on the board. Behind him stood a woman with fiery red hair and a matching robe, her pale skin serving as a sharp contrast. The tall man hunched over the table straightened to observe the newcomers to his tent. Austin could only assume that he was Stannis Baratheon. 

“And who might you three be?” he asked in a low, raspy voice.

Austin bowed lightly. “I am Ser Austin Dayne. This is Ser Wendel and Ser Marlon Manderly.”

“And why are you here?” Stannis asked simply. 

“We come as emissaries from Eddard Stark, the King in the North. He wishes for an alliance with you, Your Grace,” Austin said simply.

Stannis pursed his lips in thought for a moment. “I know your name, Ser Austin. I’ve heard of your exploits. I understand you were knighted during the Greyjoy Rebellion? We never met.”

“I was, Your Grace,” Austin nodded.

“I also heard of the Trial by Seven that took place in King’s Landing, spilling out onto the streets where my brother Robert was killed.”

Austin nodded again. “Aye, the late King Robert sacrificed his life to buy the rest of us time to flee the city.”

Stannis nodded. “Indeed? Then I shall listen to your proposal from Stark as a sign of respect to my brother, as well as Stark. He is an honorable man, though it nearly cost him his head as well as yours. What are your terms?”

“My King’s terms are simple. We will join forces until the conclusion of the war, afterwards both the North and the Riverlands will be considered an independent kingdom,” Austin stated.

Stannis’ eyes never left Austin’s purple ones. “Stark is more of a fool than I thought if he thinks I’ll agree to these terms. I’m the rightful king of all the Seven Kingdoms and the Riverlands, not the Six Kingdoms.”

“Your Grace, wouldn’t a fast military ally for decades to come be worth the loss of one kingdom?” Austin asked.

“Gods, I already have to deal with my pathetic brother rising up against me, and now Stark? I would have thought his honor would serve him better in this instance. Once I crush my brother, then the Lannisters, Stark is next if he doesn’t bow to me. That is all, leave,” Stannis waved a hand, his attention returning to the map.

Once Austin and the Manderlys were out of earshot of the tent, he sighed. “That went well.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Edric sat patiently atop a nearby barrel as Theon paced in front of him. The early hours of the morning were long past, and the sun was well above the horizon when King Renly finally emerged from his tent. Spying the two messengers, he approached, flanked by Brienne and Ser Loras. 

“I understand that our negotiations were to take place today, but another matter has come up. My brother is on his way here to discuss terms, I would like the both of you to accompany me.”

Edric shook his head. “We are not associated with you, Your Grace.”

Renly nodded. “Yes, but perhaps if we show my brother that Ned Stark wishes for an alliance, he will submit to me.”

Edric sighed. “Very well, Your Grace.”

“Excellent!” Renly exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

Edric shrugged to Theon when the Ironborn looked to him with confusion. It was better to go along with Renly’s wishes than to provoke the Baratheon fury. As Edric paced along behind Renly, he got a feeling in his gut that these negotiations would not go very well.

* * *

Austin was not surprised that Stannis was a stubborn man. He was not surprised that he was woken in the small hours of the morning and taken to the command tent. What he was surprised about, though, was that he would attend the negotiations between Stannis and his brother. It was not common practice to bring messengers to negotiations between parties unaffiliated with them. 

And so, Austin, along with the cousins Marlon and Wendel, followed Stannis on horses provided for them as they trotted up the beach, towards the awaiting yellow and black stag banners of Renly. The younger Baratheon was already waiting with his party, all dressed in elegant armor and clothing, save two individuals that brought a smile to Austin’s face. Theon and Edric, easily distinguished by their northern leather and fur cloaks, sat atop horses flanking Renly and his Kingsguard.

The two of them grinned equally as wide as Austin, and would have embraced if they weren’t on opposite sides of a very hostile negotiation. Stannis allowed his party to assemble behind him, fiery stag banner flapping in the wind as a challenge to Renly’s traditional Baratheon banner. The brothers Renly and Stannis regarded eachother coldly for several seconds, each pair of eyes taking in the composition of the opposing party. Stannis spoke first. 

“It seems Ned Stark wants his seat at everyone’s table, doesn’t it?” he directed to Edric.

Renly smirked. “Ned Stark is a logical man, unlike you, brother. Can that truly be you?”

“Who else might it be?” Stannis shot back in irritation.

Renly shrugged. “When I saw your standard, I couldn’t be sure. Whose banner is that?”

“My own,” Stannis said proudly.

Renly nodded. “Right. I suppose if we use the same one, the battle would be terribly confusing. Why’s your stag on fire?”

It was then that Austin heard the first words of the most annoying woman he’d ever met. “The king has taken for his sigil the fiery heart of the Lord of Light.”

Renly nodded. “Ah, you must be this fire priestess we hear so much about. Brother, now I see why you found religion in your old age,” he said, looking the Red Woman up and down.

Stannis straightened. “Watch yourself Renly.”

“No, no, I’m relieved!” Renly assured. “I never really believed you were a fanatic. Charmless, rigid, a bore, yes, but not a godly man.”

“You should kneel before your brother,” the Red Woman said arrogantly. “He’s the Lord’s chosen, born amidst salt and smoke.”

Renly nodded sarcastically. “Born amidst salt and smoke. Is he a ham?”

“That’s twice I’ve warned you,” Stannis snapped.

At this point, Austin caught Edric’s eye and jerked his head towards Stannis, signaling his cousin to step in and work his diplomatic magic. Edric flicked his reins and his horse strode forward a few paces to match Renly. 

“Your Graces, is there not a diplomatic way to resolve this? Must it come to bloodshed? The two of you are brothers, and share a common enemy. Unite against the Lannisters. Save these petty squabbles for after the Lannisters have been unseated.”

“The Iron Throne is mine by right,” Stannis said forcefully. “All those who deny it are my foes. For the sake of the mother who bore us, I will give you this one night to reconsider. Strike your banners, come to me before dawn, and I’ll grant you your old seat on the council. I’ll even name you my heir until a son is born to me. Otherwise I shall destroy you.”

Renly’s mouth drew taught in a grim smile. He nodded to the hills to his left. “Look across those fields, brother. You see all those banners?”

“You think a few bolts of cloth will make you king?”

“No. The men holding those bolts of cloth will make me king.”

Stannis nodded in finality. “We shall see, Renly. Come the dawn, we shall see,” he said, swinging his horse around. 

Austin shrugged to Edric, motioning for him to stay with Renly. It was now up to both of them to change the Baratheons’ minds, or they would lose two potential allies in the war to come.

* * *

The camp outside was abuzz with activity as soldiers ran back and forth in preparation of the coming battle. Still in his golden armor, Renly sat at his desk, flanked by Brienne, facing the two messengers of the North. 

“And you swear that Ned Stark has no interest in the Iron Throne?” he asked.

Edric nodded. “If you’ve met Ned, you’d know that.”

“Aye,” Renly smiled. “Just needed to be sure. I see no reason for hostility between us. Ned can go on calling himself King in the North, and the Starks will hold dominion over all lands north of Moat Cailin. Provided that Ned swears me an oath of fealty when the war is concluded.”

Edric raised an eyebrow. “The wording of this oath?”

“The same that he swore to my brother all those years ago,” Renly stressed, taking a sip of his wine before rising to allow Brienne to begin removing his armor. “Their friendship held the kingdoms together, Baratheon and Stark. I see no reason for this not to continue.”

“And in return for Ned’s loyalty?” Theon asked, barely containing his anger at Renly’s suggestions.

“In the morning, I’ll destroy my brother’s army. Then, we will unite against our common enemy, and take King’s Landing.”

Edric slowly rose to his feet. “I will convey your terms to King Ned, but I must ask you one thing first. Will you not reconsider this battle? My cousin is with Stannis now, attempting to sway him to reason.”

“Negotiate with Stannis?!” Renly scoffed. “I’d have better luck debating the wind.”

Edric turned away in frustration just in time for his violet eyes to see a shadow slither in through the open tent flaps. The dark wisps rose up into the shape of a man, clearly with the head of Stannis. A dark blade formed in one hand and Edric was helpless to watch as Renly was stabbed through the heart by solid shadow. The deed fulfilled, the shadowy tendrils disappeared into thin air.

“NO!” Brienne shrieked, catching the lifeless corpse of Renly before it could hit the ground. 

The two Kingsguard standing guard outside drew their blades and rushed in at the sound of commotion. Spying the lifeless body of their king in Brienne’s hands, they rushed her. Edric drew his own sword and moved to intercept one of them, Theon joining him. Brienne quickly dispatched the first man while Edric disarmed the second, Theon finishing him with a thrust through the chest.

Brienne returned to her kneeling position at Renly’s side, cupping his pale face in her hand. Edric walked over, blade sheathed, and bent down to speak to her. “He’s gone. If you stay here, you’ll be killed. Come with us.”

Brienne looked up at the silver-haired Dayne with glossy eyes, taking a few moments to process before nodding. She picked up her sword and cut a hole in the back of the tent, the three of them slipping out into the chaotic darkness.

* * *

As their boat slid ashore, Austin couldn’t help but wonder how Stannis had both beaten Renly,  _ and _ taken control of half of his army. At least until he heard one of the men say that Renly had been murdered, and his bannermen flocked to Stannis. How Stannis had done it was another matter entirely. The men spoke of a traitor within the younger Baratheon’s ranks, yet Austin could tell simply from their short conversations what kind of man that Stannis was. In his gut, Austin knew that Stannis did this. And the look in Ser Davos’ eye as he approached the king confirmed it.

“Your Grace.”

“Heaven’s sake, what is it?” Stannis asked in annoyance.

Ser Davos nodded politely. “I’m sorry about your brother, Your Grace. I wanted to let you know that people grieve for him.”

Austin couldn’t help but admit that he liked the man. He was told of how Ser Davos had breached the blockade of Storm’s End with a boat full of onions and other foods, bringing relief to the starving men of the castle, as well as being knighted by Stannis in the process. What was amusing was how the other lords called him the Onion Knight out of spite, but the man had taken it as his sigil, proud of his deeds.

“Fools love a fool. I grieve for him as well. The boy he was, not the man he grew to be,” Stannis replied as he marched towards the command tent, eyes never leaving it.

“I need to speak to you about what I saw in that cave,” Davos pressed, but Stannis immediately moved the conversation to hushed tones. Seeing as Austin could no longer hear the conversation, he took the opportunity to study the encampment. The last of the Tyrell banners had already disappeared over the horizon, and the men of the Stormlands were still busying themselves, working for the new arrival of the men of Dragonstone.

Wondering where Edric was, Austin stepped into the command tent to speak to Stannis about him. Evidently, there had been some conversation that sis not end well for Ser Davos, because his head was dropped, facing away from Stannis.

“When do we sail for King’s Landing?”

“As soon as I’ve consolidated my troops,” Stannis answered before turning his head towards Austin and the cousins Manderly who flanked him. “As a lord yourself, Ser Austin, I would expect you to know the courtesy of another’s tent.”

“I do, Your Grace, but I was wondering where my cousin Edric was. He was sent here to negotiate with your brother.”

Stannis scoffed. “He probably fled with the cowardly Tyrells. No matter. Now Ned Stark only has one party to negotiate with. Come, deliver his terms,” he said as he sat down and leaned back in an ornate wooden chair behind Renly’s war desk.

Austin sighed and stepped forward, seating himself across the table. “ _ King _ Stark wishes for a military alliance against the Lannisters. He wants no claim to the Iron Throne, and he only asks for the North’s independence once this war is concluded.”

Stannis pursed his lips in thought. “Do you think it occurs to Stark that they are called the  _ Seven _ Kingdoms? Not six. No, when this war is concluded, Ned Stark shall swear an oath of fealty to me, bringing the North back into the fold, or I shall destroy him. This is no negotiation, this is an ultimatum.”

Austin’s brow furrowed and he leaned back in the chair, arms crossed. “If that’s the way you see it, perhaps there was no point in us coming here if all we did was provoke you to war.”

“The decision does not seem difficult,” Stannis spread his hands. “In one, the North continues its prosperity, and Ned Stark keeps his head. On the other, the armies of the North will be destroyed. It is Lord Stark’s choice as to which.”

Austin smirked, which turned into a wide grin, then a fit of laughter. Stannis glanced to Davos, who shrugged, then back to Austin. “Something amusing to you?”

Austin pressed his hand to his chest while he calmed down. “Just your statements about destroying the armies of the North. You don’t seem to understand the situation. For one, we have the armies of the Riverlands under our banner. In another, what allies do you think you have? The men in this camp are all you have, and it now numbers less than sixty thousand. Granted, that still outnumbers our armies, but this is all you get. After a siege of King’s Landing, this number will shrink, even if you win. After that, you propose to march north and fight us on our terms?”

Stannis nodded. “Aye, that’s right. I’ll march north and slaughter all those who oppose me.”

“You have no allies,” Austin said, leaning forward to study the map on the table in front of them. He pointed to Casterly Rock. “Tywin Lannister may submit to your rule because you will have captured his daughter and grandchildren, but he will not aide you in war.”

“The Tyrells rule the Reach,” he pointed to Highgarden. “And you’ve just killed their only ally. They’re clamoring for revenge.”

Next, he pointed to the Eyrie. “The Vale is ruled by a madwoman locked in a tower in the sky, she’ll do nothing to endanger the life of her still breastfeeding son.”

Finally, Austin pointed to Sunspear. “And the Dornish haven’t had anything to do with the Kingdoms since Robert became king.”

“So you see,” Austin sat back, placing his hands behind his head. “You cannot win if you choose to oppose us. Invading the North at any time of the year is nearly suicide because of the summer snows, and summer is no longer with us. Winter is coming.”

Stannis had grown angrier by the second. Rising rapidly to his feet, He slammed his palms on the table with enough force that Austin heard an audible crack. “You must have wished to anger me, because that’s all you’ve done, you cowardly-”

“Your Grace!” Ser Davos cut in sharply, earning the attention of Stannis. “Might I have a word in private?” He nodded to Austin, who stood and made his way out of the tent with Marlon and Wendel.

“We’ve got him,” he smirked to the other two Wolfguard.

A few minutes later, Ser Davos appeared out of the tent, holding the flaps open and motioning for the three men to reenter. Stannis was poring over the map, pieces having been placed back in their proper spots after his bout of anger.

“I agree to King Stark’s terms,” he said, eyes never leaving the map. “On one condition. You, Ser Austin, will participate in the coming battle, and remain with me thereafter. I hear that Ned Stark is quite fond of you, and treats you like a son, so you will remain with me in case of a betrayal.”

Austin remained silent for a few moments, contemplating it in his head. Ned would argue that he would never betray Stannis because of his honor, but Stannis would somehow refute that. His only choice would be to agree to Stannis’ terms. He nodded his assent.

“As you wish, but allow my men here to return to our king and present him the terms,” Austin said, motioning behind him to Ser Wendel and Ser Marlon. 

Stannis inclined his head. “Very well. But tell Stark that if he ever betrays me, its  _ your _ head he’ll be seeing on the battlements of Kings Landing.”

* * *

They’d been riding hard all morning, trying to put some distance between them and any would-be pursuers. Edric called for a halt and slid off the side of his horse, grabbing hold of the reins and leading it to the stream next to the road before stooping down to get a drink himself. Theon and Brienne copied his actions, the three of them tying their horses to a nearby tree and sitting on the damp ground afterwards to get some rest. 

As Edric removed the outer pieces of his armor that he’d ridden in, prepared for any fight, Brienne spoke. “It looked like Stannis.”

Theon shook his head. “All I saw was a shadow in the shape of a man.”

“No, I agree. The body wasn’t his, but the face was,” Edric said, earning a grateful look from Brienne. “In any case, any hopes of alliance we may have now rest with Austin. I just pray he doesn’t anger Stannis and get himself killed.”

“I saw him at the meeting. He looks like you, but much taller. Your brother?” Brienne asked.

“Cousin,” Edric corrected. 

“Why are you with the Starks?” she asked.

Edric sighed. “It was a long time ago. I was very young. We were forced out of our castle by our jealous cousin, Gerold Dayne. Evidently, he always hated being a member of the branch house, and coveted our ancestral sword, Dawn. So, Austin followed my Aunt’s orders and set off North with me in tow. Only the gods know why she sent us all the way up there.”

“I’m sorry,” Brienne said in a low voice. 

Theon scoffed. “Oh come on. I was taken from my home as a child, you don’t hear me bitching about it.”

“I wasn’t bitching!” Edric snapped. “She asked, I answered.”

“Yes, but with all the flair and drama, like a fucking politician,” Theon rolled his eyes.

Edric rose an eyebrow. “I’m a lord. I  _ am _ a politician.”

“In any case,” Brienne interrupted, “once you’re back with your own people, will you give me leave to go, my lord?”

Edric leaned back against a tree. “You were always free to go, you don’t have to accompany us. If you mean to kill Stannis, though, there are better ways to go about it.”

“I swore a vow,” Brienne said forcefully.

“Aye,” Edric nodded. “But that vow doesn’t say  _ how _ you have to uphold it, now does it? Besides, if my cousin can’t convince Stannis of the need of an alliance between us, I’m fairly certain we’ll be fighting him in the future anyways. Trust me, biding your time is the best way to go here. If it wasn’t, Austin would have ridden off as soon as he was seventeen to kill our cousin and reclaim our home.”

As always, Edric’s words were full of wisdom, which Brienne saw. She sat back, content, as Theon bent forward and began to start a fire. When Edric began to protest, Theon just shook his head. “If I’m going to die, I’m going to die with a hot meal in my belly.”

* * *

Just as they set foot back in the camp nearly a week later, leading their horses on foot, a commotion could be seen. A massive crowd of men were yelling obscenities and throwing stones at some unknown offender. As Edric drew closer, he recognized Jaime Lannister, bound and being led by several Tully and Stark men.

Lord Rickard Karstark rushed forward, drawing his weapons, threatening violence if he was not let past. “Any man who stands between a father and his vengeance asks for death!”

“Lord Karstark!” Edric called, striding forward to face the man. Rickard was an imposing figure, even in his old age, yet Edric stood eye to eye with him, no weapon in his hand, though Brienne and Theon had drawn theirs. 

“This man is our prisoner,” Edric said calmly.

Lord Karstark pointed to Jaime with his sword. “This  _ monster _ killed my son.”

“He’ll answer for his crimes, King Eddard will see to that. But not here, not now.”

“I’ll have his head, and if you try and stop me-”

“You’ll what? Strike me down?” Edric asked in disbelief, drawing his sword. He ran his fingers along its sharp edge, staring at the northern lord with a gleam in his eye. “I might not be as good as my cousin, but I promise you, you’ll regret that.”

Lord Karstark scoffed. “Aren’t you supposed to be the diplomat? Or do you only play like that because you’re Ned’s pet?”

“Aye, I’m the diplomatic one. But even a master of diplomacy must know how to defend himself. Now, I have plenty of reason to want to kill Jaime Lannister, he nearly killed me himself during the Battle of Whispering Wood. But have I done it? No, because there are better ways to do things. Rotting in a cell for the rest of his life is much more of a punishment than simply beheading him.”

“Until he escapes and kills one of your sons!” Rickard roared. “When our king returns from the Crag, I’ll make this demand.”

“Wise men do not make demands of kings,” Edric advised.

Rickard looked at him with cold eyes as he sheathed his sword. “Fathers who love their sons do. I’ll have his head.”

With that, the northern lord turned and stalked back into the camp, shadowed by his men. Edric sheathed his own blade, Theon and Brienne doing the same. “Our list of enemies has now extended to those within our camp.”

“I thank you for fighting on my behalf, Lord Edric. I’d shake your hand, but,” he motioned t his bound hands before he was hauled to his feet. 

“Take him back to his cage,” Edric ordered the men, who nodded and dragged the filthy Lannister away.

“Looks like we missed all the fun,” Edric heard behind him. He, Brienne, and Theon whirled around to spy Ser Wendel and Ser Marlon Manderly atop their horses.

“Where’s Austin?” Edric asked.

The cousins exchanged a glance. “You’d better hear this with the king.”

* * *

“In short, the Lord Commander elected to remain with Stannis, believing that is what you would wish of him,” Ser Wendel finished.

Ned shook his head. “No, I do not wish that for him, but I recognize his efforts to make this alliance a reality. When I see him again, I’ll thank him. You are dismissed, report to Ser Barristan for your debriefing.”

As the two Manderlys left, Edric stepped forward. “So, it seems that Austin was able to secure an alliance after all. Although I’d advise against keeping him there. Stannis is a cruel, angry man. You may have supported his claim once, but given the slightest opportunity, I believe he will attempt to seize the North from you.”

Ned nodded. “Aye, you may be right. But we can take no action while Austin is in their custody. Austin falling in battle is also another possibility.”

“Falling in battle? What do you mean?” Edric asked. “The Manderlys made no mention of Austin taking part in battle.”

Ned shook his head. “No, but I know Stannis. He’ll use Austin as a commander or bodyguard during the battles to come. He won’t let his ally’s envoy become indolent. He knows Austin is a capable fighter, and he’ll use that to his advantage.”

Edric collapsed into a chair across from his king, burying his head in his hands. “Just when I thought I had him back for good, now we have to worry about all of this. He’s my brother, Ned. My brother. Maybe not by birth, but we’re bound together by ordeals that no other has been through. We have responsibilities, we have to reclaim our home from those who took it from us. We can’t do that if we’re dead. Only Austin can defeat Gerold in battle. And only I can rule the castle once it is retaken. We’re in an unbreakable repetition of circumstances, Ned. Just when we feel as though we can’t be beaten, we’re torn apart again. When will it end?!”

Ned bowed his head, praying to the Old Gods of the Forest for answers. “I don’t know, Edric. I don’t know.”


	24. Chapter 24

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GAME OF THRONES OR ANY ASSOCIATED CHARACTERS**

**So unfortunately, because of the way I have mapped out and planned this story, certain scenes will happen earlier than they would in the show. This is simply to drive the plot forward and make certain events happen later that I have planned, so put your pitchforks down, this is a fanfiction after all. With that out of the way, enjoy the new chapter and drop me a review!**

**Chapter 24**

For weeks Arya had been carrying Tywin’s water and wine, his food and drink, his firewood. Every now and then, she’d sneak a peek at one of the letters he constantly wrote to get some inkling of what was happening with the war. When she got word that Tywin was to leave Harrenhal soon with his army, she had to act fast. She walked as fast as she dared without drawing any attention to herself down to the courtyard, where Jaqen H’ghar sat in his Lannister armor.

“You have to get us out of here tonight.”

“Why?”

“Lord Tywin is leaving tomorrow, and he’s going to empty the whole castle. We’ll be killed!” she exclaimed.

“A man does not care what happens to others, for a man survives.”

“You said I could name three names!” Arya protested. 

Jaqen nodded. “Yes, but to help you and your friends escape would require more than one name. This is something a man cannot do.”

“Fine. I’ll name the third name. Jaqen H’ghar.”

Jaqen looked up at her with cold eyes. “A girl lacks honour. If a man were to do this thing, a girl must obey.”

“A girl will obey,” Arya returned.

“A girl and her friends will walk through the gates at midnight,” Jaqen said, brushing past Arya and disappearing.

* * *

The salty air of Dragonstone reminded Austin of his days in Starfall, where the sea was only a stone’s throw from the castle walls. It stung his tongue and dried out his hair, but it reminded him of happier times. Though if he’d never been forced out of his home, he wouldn’t have so many brothers in Robb, Jon, Theon, and Edric. Lord Stark had been more of a father to him than Ser Arthur had ever been, but that wasn’t a difficult task per say.

From the balcony of his quarters, he could see scores of black-sailed barges and warships anchored off shore. The fields and beach leading down to the shore were covered in tents from both the Dragonstone troops, as well as the Stormlanders. Just as Austin turned around, the door to his room opened, revealing Ser Davos Seaworth.

“King Stannis demands your presence at his war council.”

Austin nodded, taking a seat to pull on his boots before rising to follow the older seaman. When he entered the council chambers, Aegon’s table was littered with wooden pieces representing the armies of Westeros. Lords of both Dragonstone and the Stormlands were surrounding it, with Stannis at the head of the table. 

“Ser Austin,” Stannis called, silencing all other conversations.

“Your Grace,” Austin nodded.

Stannis stood to his feet and paced around to the side of the table where King’s Landing was. “Seeing as how you are both a knight and experienced soldier, I wanted to explain our battle plans and perhaps glean some of your insight. Gods know these fools don’t have any input.”

Austin motioned for Stannis to continue as he walked up next to him and looked down at the table. “Our scouts report that the garrison has over ten thousand men. We have six times that at least, but they have the walls. You are familiar with the defences of the city, are you not?”

“I am. I had plenty of time to study them when I was in the city with Ned,” Austin nodded. “The main gates are strong, easily defended, but the beachhead is vulnerable. The Mud Gate is the weakest gate and point on the walls. If you smash the Lannister fleet and land troops on the beach in longboats, a ladder assault should take the city.”

“Should?” Stannis pried. “I need absolutes, Ser Austin.”

Austin shrugged. “Unfortunately, there are no absolutes in warfare, Your Grace.”

“Aye, you’re right about that. Very well, Ser Austin. We sail at dawn.”

* * *

Edric marched through the camp, Ingavar by his side, Brienne on the other. She had seldom left his side since their arrival in the Northern camp, but that was to be expected. She was a woman in a camp full of men who haven’t seen their wives in months. Snapping and pointing to the ground next to the command tent, Ingavar lumbered over and plopped down onto the ground, already half asleep. Without Austin’s presence, the bear had grown lazy.

Sweeping open the flap of the tent, Edric allowed Brienne inside first before he himself stepped in. Ned looked up from the war map that he, the Greatjon, and Ser Brynden Tully were poring over. His face brightened noticeably at the Dayne’s presence, followed by surprise and confusion at Brienne’s.

“Forgive me, my lady, I do not believe we have met,” Ned said lightly.

Brienne bowed deeply. “Brienne of Tarth, Your Grace. And if it please, just Brienne.”

“Very well,” Ned nodded. “I’d heard that Edric had brought a warrior back from Renly’s camp, but I had no idea that you’d be a woman. And that you were one of Renly’s Kingsguard no less.”

“I was. My father taught me to fight,” she said.

“I’ve met Lord Selwyn, he’s a good man,” Ned praised before turning his gaze to Edric. “Now, what is it?”

“Well, to put it mildly Ned, the Karstarks are in danger of committing treason.”

“Aye, I heard about Lord Karstark’s son. But without Jaime, we hold no leverage over Tywin for Sansa,” Ned said.

Edric raised an eyebrow. “What about Arya?”

“I sent Arya with a Night’s Watchman to the Wall. With any luck, she’s back at Winterfell.”

“I see,” Edric said. “In any case, I think a few more guards should be posted tonight. Last night, swords were drawn, but no bloodshed occurred thanks to Lady Maege.”

“Aye, choose the men yourself. I trust you,” Ned nodded.

Edric bowed, taking his leave. When they were outside the tent, Brienne spoke up. “A few extra swords won’t stop an angry Karstark army.”

The corner of Edric’s mouth twisted upwards. “I know. Which is why I have an ace up my sleeve.”

* * *

The water was exactly as its name suggested: black. Blackwater Bay’s waves were silent, aiding in the travel of Stannis’ fleet. Austin stood in the bow of the Baratheon’s flagship, staring ahead towards the not yet visible shoreline. He turned his head when a roughly accented voice spoke from behind him.

“I suppose we haven’t had much time to get acquainted, Ser Austin,” said Ser Davos, his hands clasped behind his back.

“No, I suppose we haven’t,” Austin smiled, turning to shake the hand of the Onion Knight. “I’ve heard the story of how you obtained your sigil.”

Davos chuckled. “Aye, one of my finest moments.”

“And you don’t resent Stannis for that?” Austin nodded to Davos’ severed fingers.

The seaman flexed his hands. “I don’t resent him. He was good with the cleaver, and it was fair justice. I can still feel them sometimes.”

“You are an honourable man, Ser Davos. A quality rarely found these days, much less in men from Fleabottom,” Austin nodded in respect.

Ser Davos inclined his head in return. “I hear tales of your honour as well, Ser Austin. I heard that you grew up with Ned Stark, and he raised you among his own sons.”

“Aye, he did. He’s the only father I’ve ever known.”

“Yet he isn’t your real father, is he? I’ve heard great tales of your real father. Been called the deadliest knight in the history of Westeros. Some even say you’re better,” said Davos.

“A stretch, but thank you. The way I’ve heard other great knights talk about my father, I feel like I can’t escape his shadow, that I’ll never be as good as him with a blade. And the truth is, if I didn’t  _ have _ to be, I wouldn’t even try,” Austin sighed. “I’ve fought in one battle, one trial, and a street fight, yet I’m weary of war. Common soldiers in these armies are braver than me.”

“No, they’re not braver. The truth is, no one is brave. All men who go to war are scared, but those who do their duty despite their fear are the ones considered brave and heroic. Common soldiers seem fearless because they are easily inspired by their commanders.”

Austin nodded in understanding. “You have some wisdom to you, Ser Davos.”

“Well, you don’t get to be my age without picking up a thing or two.”

The pair’s conversation was interrupted when Stannis approached from the rear to stand between the two men. His cold eyes were fastened on the horizon when he spoke. “Ser Austin, a word?”

Ser Davos bowed and took his leave as Austin straightened. “Your Grace.”

“The attack on the Mud Gate will be fierce. Once my men reach the walls with their ladders, the Lannisters will no doubt sally out with their best troops. I want you on the front lines. Eliminate their Kingsguard and anyone else you deem important to the defence of the city.”

Austin nodded. “As you wish.”

* * *

The Northern camp was quiet when Lord Karstark made his move. The small hours of the morning left most of the men asleep, save those assigned to guard duties. Jaime’s wooden cell now had five prison guards, hand-picked by Edric for their loyalty and honor. But even they would not hold long against the throng of Karstarks that strode purposefully towards them. Swords were drawn on both sides.

“Out of the way! Any man who stands between me and my vengeance will suffer a split skull!” Lord Karstark growled.

Edric stepped out of the shadows of the nearby tents. He was outfitted for battle, armor glistening in the moonlight, fur cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Brienne followed, her golden armor blazing in the pale light. 

“They will not. And you will stand down, Lord Karstark,” Edric demanded.

Without a word, Rickard yelled and charged forward, sword poised for a strike on the defenseless Dayne. Brienne drew her sword unnecessarily, for Edric let out a sharp, piercing whistle.

In a matter of seconds, a mass of brown, bristly fur caught the Karstark Lord’s sword arm in its jaws and ripped it clean off, fingers still clutching the grip. The sword tip dug into the ground, leaving the severed limb dangling from it as blood spurted from what was left of Lord Karstark’s right arm. It had been torn above the elbow, and the old man screamed like Edric had never heard a man scream before, left hand attempting to staunch the bleeding. 

Forgetting completely about their original mission, all of the Karstark men aided in escorting their wailing lord to the nearest healer. Ingavar glanced up to Edric, his teeth stained red, looking for some kind of approval. Edric smirked at the bear and patted its head. Sometimes, he wondered if the bear was actually a deformed human.

* * *

Edric stood next to Ser Barristan, the two on either side of Ned. The King in the North sat, hands clasped in front of his face, brooding as he stared at Lord Karstark. The Northern lord sat across from Ned, the stump of his right arm wrapped generously with bandages. Evidently, the surgeons had worked through the night to staunch the bleeding, and it had taken its toll on the Karstark. His already pale northern complexion was a few shades lighter, and he was sweating profusely.

Finally, Ned’s hands moved down to the table before he spoke. “You know my views on honor, Lord Karstark. I should behead you for breaking your oaths, yet I feel you have suffered much. The loss of your arm is acceptable payment for the attempt on Jaime Lannister’s life. And the loss of your son will haunt you for the rest of your life. Therefore, I sentence you to live out the rest of your days in misery.”

Edric’s mouth tightened in sympathy. He had no love for the Karstark, yet no one should be forced to endure such hardships. Nevertheless, he deemed Ned’s judgement to be fair. Lord Karstark begrudgingly stood, albeit with some difficulty, and bowed stiffly. He was certainly fuming over Ned’s decision.

As the old man disappeared out of the tent flaps, Ned sighed and placed his face in his hands. “So many families destroyed by war.”

Edric moved to the other side of the table and sat in the chair that Lord Karstark was previously in. “You realize that you could lose him and his men for this? Although I suppose that would be inevitable.”

“He’s right, Your Grace,” Ser Barristan said in his low, gravelly voice. “He will surely desert you and return North.”

“I can worry about one rebellious lord once this war is won. His head can wait to be removed until then,” Ned said, rising to his feet. “Now, our scouts report that Tywin has left Harrenhal. We must move quickly and take the castle by surprise before he has a chance to return and fortify his position.”

Ser Barristan bowed. “I shall give the order, Your Grace.”

* * *

Mere seconds after the towers of King’s Landing became visible, the bells began to toll. Austin stood, arms crossed, behind Stannis, watching he first fleet sail ahead of them. Stannis had given the first half of the fleet to Ser Davos. Once they established a beachhead, Stannis would move in with the rest of his troops. Deep, booming drums sounded from Davos’ fleet, responding to the bells of the city.

Austin knew that psychological warfare was the first and perhaps most important aspect of a battle, but it was as of yet unknown if their drums in response to the bells had any effect. Minutes went by, some of the most tense of Austin’s life, but all tension built to a crescendo when the entire first fleet went up in a green firestorm. The explosion ripped apart ships, and the shockwave even caused some of the men on deck to fall backwards. Austin placed one foot behind him and leaned into it, taking the impact.

Stannis clenched his jaw and turned towards the boats. “Prepare to land. The dwarf has played his little trick. He can only play it once,” he said as he removed his cloak, revealing simple chainmail with plating down the center of his torso and collarbone. 

Austin copied the action, revealing his House Dayne sigil breastplate, placing his helm on his head. His long, white hair now flowed out of his helmet, down the back of his armor as it hadn’t been cut in a while. He watched as Stannis placed a foot on the ladders and glanced around at his men. “Come with me and take this city,” he said simply, earning yells of assent.

Austin swiftly climbed down in the boat behind Stannis, telling the rowers to split off and head for the Mud Gate. He perched on one knee in the bow of the boat, saluting Stannis when the Baratheon King looked his way. The flaming arrows came first. Clattering against armor, sticking into the wood of the boats, and taking men in their chests. 

As soon as the boats slid ashore, Austin dove over the side, his six and a half foot frame being a large target for enemy archers. He sprinted for the walls, men falling left and right of him from flaming arrows in their chests. He slammed his shoulder into the stone and took cover with another man underneath his shield. They were ten feet just to the right of the gate itself. 

Just as the first wave of ladders began to go up, the gates open, and the lannister soldiers and gold cloaks sallied out, led by a massive, broad figure that Austin had thought dead. The Hound wielded a greatsword in his hands, and began hacking away at the men of Dragonstone and the Stormlands. 

Taking Stannis’ meaning, Austin led the counter charge, drawing his sword and ramming his left shoulder into an enemy soldier, knocking him off his feet, Austin stabbed down, then retreated when another red-clad soldier came at him. Baiting him into a thrust, Austin batted the sword away backhanded, then brought his blade back around and decapitated the man. 

They’d formed battle lines, giving cover to the men with ladders, providing a buffer between them and the Lannister soldiers. As the flaming arrows sailed overhead, out of the corner of his eye, Austin spied the Hound cleave a man completely in two. He was just about to charge the larger man when the Lannisters sounded their retreat. They fell back into the city, closing the gates behind them.

Austin turned to face the boats. “Bring up the ram!”

As the black wooden stag ram was brought up and set to work on the gates, Austin sheltered against the walls again, out of the sight of the enemy archers. It was oddly quiet for several minutes, and Austin had just begun to wonder where the enemy had gone until one of his men was screaming and clutching the stump of his leg before a three and a half foot tall man killed him with an axe. 

Tyrion Lannister himself had led the Lannisters outside the walls to flank Austin and his troops. Sounding the counter charge, Austin ran the first man he saw through with his sword, ducking under the next swipe at his head. A mace bashed the skull in of the man next to him, but Austin kept fighting. His armor and sword ran slick with blood, whether any of it was his was a mystery altogether. 

He soon found himself with a handful of other men, the only survivors of the Lannister assault. A pause in the action occurred, with Austin and his four men staring at the enemy before hundreds of reinforcements streamed in from behind them. Charging again, Austin set upon the Lannisters and Goldcloaks like a deadly storm. The men behind him cut a red swathe through the enemy lines. As the battle spread out, bodies no longer packed together, Austin spotted Tyrion and a Kingsguard in a lull. Without warning, the Kingsguard charged Tyrion and sliced down, but Austin was already on his way. 

He didn’t exactly wish to save the Imp, but Stannis’ orders were to kill the Kingsguard, so he ran the man through his golden armor underneath the ribcage. A shorter, stockier lad looked up at him from Lord Tyrion’s side. From his manner, he completely expected Austin to finish the two of them off. Seeing the dwarf in the boy’s hands, blood streaming off his face, Austin simply nodded to them before heading back into the fight. 

He didn’t have to look long, though, because the first sword he met seemed familiar. The darkness masked the man’s face, but the bladework and unorthodox movements felt oddly familiar to Austin. Then, just as another flaming arrow sailed overhead, the fire illuminated the man’s face, and Austin’s breath caught in his chest. 

Austin stepped backwards, eyes wide, trained on the man from the past. “Bronn?” he asked, removing his helmet. The sellsword stepped forward, blade at his side. He wordlessly nodded to Austin before his sword came up and the pommel smashed Austin in the face, knocking him out cold. 

Just as Austin hit the sand, the Hound drew up to Bronn. The sellsword pointed to Austin with his blade. “He’s a prisoner, that one.”

“I’ll take him,” the Hound grunted, tossing the Dayne over his shoulder with one hand. 

Just as the Hound turned, he saw green and gold banners flying on the ends of lances. Cavalrymen from the Reach under the banners of House Tyrell were intermingled with the Lannister reinforcing banners under Lord Tywin.

The Hound strode back into the city, Austin still on his shoulder. Ser Boros Blount attempted to stop him. “Where are you going? We’re Kingsguard, we have to represent the King until the very end of this siege!”

The Hound scoffed. “Fuck the Kingsguard. Fuck the City. Fuck the King.”

With that, the massive Clegane strode off. As they made their way through the streets, Austin slowly began to regain consciousness. His vision was still blurry, and his head was pounding, but he could tell that he was moving. He bounced uncomfortable for what seemed like hours before he was roughly tossed on the cobblestones. 

“Stay here, be quiet,” a voice growled before heavy boots faded away. Austin lay there, seeing stars for several minutes. He brought his hand to the side of his face and felt dried blood caked where Bronn’s strike had impacted his skull. When the heavy footsteps returned, Austin turned his now returned eyesight in that direction.

Surprisingly, it was the Hound. The Clegane bent down and hauled Austin to his feet. Austin would always marvel at how he was dwarfed by this man and his brother. Nevertheless, he allowed himself to be half dragged to the stables, where he saw two fully saddled horses. The Hound stopped the both of them and spun Austin to face him. He smacked Austin on the side of the head to try and snap him out of it. 

“Can you ride?”

Austin nodded lazily, his head feeling like someone had stabbed him in both eyes. The Hound tossed the Dayne up into the saddle of the first horse before mounting his own. He grabbed the reins of Austin’s horse and led the animal and rider out of the stables, down the cobblestone streets and out of the city, away from the smell of pig shit and salt water.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

As the cold wind whipped at his face and hair, Jon couldn’t help but wonder what had pushed him to this in the first place. He’d wanted to join the Night’s Watch since he met Benjen for the first time. He’d heard of the stories and honourable deeds of the Night’s Watch, but now that he was one of them, he realized that they’d all been embellished. 

He couldn’t lie, he’d never felt more free than when the wildlings cut his bonds after he’d killed Qhorin Halfhand. The ranger had said a man within the wildling ranks would be worth a thousand guarding the Wall, and Jon was determined to carry that out. Or so he thought, until he realized just how free the Wildlings seem. His will was being pulled by both his duty, and his infatuation with a wild mane of red hair.

They still wouldn’t return his sword, he supposed so that Mance Rayder could determine his loyalties before they put Longclaw back in his hand. The one who calls himself Lord of Bones seemed to be the leader of this particular troop, and he was a very strict leader. He had a narrow mind, and Jon was nearly executed by him until Ygritte had told him Jon was Ned’s son.

And so, Jon found himself being led into the largest encampment he’d ever seen. It stretched for miles over the horizon, and was abuzz with activity. At one point, out from behind a tent, a figure at least twenty feet tall appeared, carrying a large, wooden post that would’ve taken four men. It set the end on the ground and wordlessly began hammering away at it with its bare fist, pounding the wood into the ground.

Seeing Jon gawking, Ygritte rose an eyebrow. “First time you seen a giant, Jon Snow?”

Jon nodeded, mouth still agape. “Well don’t stare too long, they’re shy. And when they’re done being shy, they get angry. And when they’re angry, I’ve seen them pound a man straight into the ground like a hammer on a nail,” Ygritte detailed.

As if on queue, the giant turned its head to stare directly at Jon. The Night’s Watchman bolted when the giant growled, a deep and low sound that vibrated the ground underneath his feet. Catching up to Ygritte, he felt the sting of something impacting his neck. With no warning, rocks and sticks began flying, bouncing off of his fur armor and sinking into the snow.

Ygritte stepped forward and knocked a few of the boys down, and the stones stopped. Nevertheless, a pathway had been made, lined on either side by wildlings, leading him directly to the largest tent in the whole encampment. 

“You’re wearing the wrong color,” Ygritte pointed out.

Jon didn’t look at her. “Mance was a ranger.”

“In your hearts, all you crows want to fly free.”

“And when I’m free, will I be free to go?” Jon asked.

Ygritte laughed, a pleasant sound to Jon. “Aye, and I’ll be free to kill you.”

She smirked, winked at him once, then turned and led the way towards the tent. She swept the flap aside and let him in, stepping in after him. She held Longclaw in her hands loosely as Jon surveyed the inside of the tent. Seated directly in front were several wildlings, huddled around a fire, eating meat straight off the bone. 

The largest one still had his back turned, so all Jon saw was a mane of fiery red hair that matched Ygritte’s. “I smell a crow,” he said gruffly.

The Lord of Bones stepped inside, next to Jon. “We killed his friends. Thought you’d want to question this one.”

“What do we want with a baby crow?” the large man asked.

“This baby killed Qhorin Halfhand,” she said. “He wants to be one of us.”

At the mention of the former ranger, the large man rose to his feet abd approached Jon slowly. “That half-handed cunt killed friends of mine, friends twice your size.”

Jon stared upwards, directly into the pale blue eyes of the red-haired man. “My father taught me that big men fall just as quick as little ones if you put a sword through their hearts.”

“Plenty of little men tried to put their swords through my heart,” the big man pointed to himself. “And there’s plenty of little skeletons buried in the woods. What’s your name, boy?”

“Jon Snow.”

As if Jon finally realized who he was speaking to, he dropped to one knee. “Your Grace.”

All in assembly laughed, including the big man, who laughed the loudest. “ _ Your Grace? _ You hear that? From now on, you’d better kneel every time I fart!”

In the shadows behind the big man, Jon saw movement. A smaller man, with jet black hair ducked under a wooden beam. “Stand, boy,” he called as he walked up behind the big man.

Jon slowly rose to his feet as the big man moved aside to let the black-haired man through. “We don’t kneel for anyone beyond the Wall. So, you’re Ned Stark’s bastard. Thank you for the gift, Lord of Bones, you can leave us.”

Ygritte placed Longclaw down next to the tent entrance before stealing a longing glance at Jon. With that, she turned and ducked out of the tent. The black-haired man nodded in her direction. “The girl likes you. You like her back, Snow? That why you want to join us?” 

The big man chuckled at the alarmed look in Jon’s eyes. “Don’t panic, boy. This isn’t the damned Night’s Watch where we make you swear off girls.”

“This chicken-eater you thought was king is Tormund Giantsbane,” the black-haired man nodded to the big man. 

Tormund paced around Jon. “Can’t believe this pup killed Halfhand.”

The black-haired man stared Jon in the eyes. “He was our enemy, and I’m glad he’s dead.”

He extended a gloved hand slowly to Jon, who looked down at it. Jon gingerly took it, surprised at its firmness. The black-haired man pulled Jon in and moved his face closer. “He was my brother once. Back when he had a whole hand. What were you doing with him?”

“The Lord Commander sent me with the Halfhand for seasoning,” Jon replied instantly.

“Why?”

“He wants me to lead one day.”

“And here you are, a traitor,” the black-haired man said simply. “Kneeling before Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall.”

“If I’m a traitor, then you are, too,” Jon said coldly. 

Mance glanced to Tormund, who clearly wanted to kill Jon on the spot. “Why do you want to join us, Jon Snow?”

Jon glanced to his feet. “I want to be free.”

“No,” Mance shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think what you want most of all is to be a hero. I’ll ask you one last time, why do you want to join us?”

“We stopped at Craster’s Keep on the way North. I saw…” Jon trailed off.

“You saw what?” Mance pressed. 

Jon looked up at him. “I saw Craster take his own baby boy and leave it in the woods. I saw what took it.”

Mance flitted between Jon’s eyes and Tormund’s. “You’re telling me you saw one of  _ them _ ? And why would that make you desert your brothers?”

“Because when I told the Lord Commander, he already knew. Thousands of years ago, the First Men battled the White Walkers and defeated them. I want to fight for the side that fights for the living. Did I come to the right place?”

The corner of Mance’s mouth turned upwards in satisfaction. “We’ll need to find you a new cloak.”

* * *

For the several hours after leaving King’s Landing, Austin was in a stupor. The impact of Bronn’s blow had left him reeling, the pounding in his head never having stopped, even after he regained control of his body. Each bounce of the horse sent a new wave of pain behind his eyes. There was also nothing to take his mind off of the pain, as his traveling companion had said scarcely a few words since leaving the capital. When they stopped for a drink at a nearby stream, though, Austin decided to make his move.

Removing his helmet, he ducked his head underneath the surface of the icy water, the cool sensation helping relieve the pain in his skull. The Hound took several long draughts out of his water skin before refilling it. Austin sat back on the cool grass, shaking his head and sending water in all directions. Running a hand through his hair to straighten it, he glanced over to the dark-armored warrior.

“I thought you were dead.”

The Hound cupped water in his hands before bringing it to his face and washing the dried blood and grime off. “No, not yet. I’m a big fucker and I’m tough to kill.”

“Robert hit you in the head with his hammer.”

“Aye, had a headache for a few days.”

“Why?” Austin asked. 

“What?” the Hound growled.

“Why leave? Why save me? Why take me with you?”

The Hound glared at Austin with fire behind his eyes. “Because  _ fuck _ the king. Fuck the Lannisters. Fuck every cunt who isn’t me.”

Austin rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

“I saved you because I was leaving that shit city, and you’re the only one who can get me a pardon from Ned Stark.”

“Why do you want a pardon from Ned?” Austin pried.

The Hound shot to his feet. “For fucks sake, one more question and I might just forget the pardon and kill you.”

Austin threw his hands up in surrender, picking his helmet up off the ground and returning to his horse. Tying the steel helm onto the saddle, Austin patted the horse on his neck, thanking him for staying upright through the night and most of the morning. When the two mounted up again, Austin trotted up next to the Clegane.

“The last time I left, the Northern forces had just won the battle of Oxcross. If I had to take a guess, they would have moved east after Tywin left Harrenhal. Or they could have pressed their attack on the Westerlands.”

“Which do you think?” the Hound asked.

“I would have pressed my attack, but Ned and I do not exactly think alike. So knowing my luck, he’d move for Harrenhal.”

“Make up your mind you dumb cunt.”

“Harrenhal it is,” Austin said, smiling at the angry Hound.

The Clegane rolled his eyes and set his jaw tightly. “Assuming I don’t kill you before we get there.”

“Give me a few days to get rid of this headache and you can try,” Austin dared the larger man.

* * *

As Bran bounced along, as had become his customary day to day life, he contemplated the recurring dreams he’d been having. Whether it be on the back of Hodor or on Osha, Bran was always subjected to being carried by someone else. But he found this new way of life quite peaceful, as it gave him more time to think. 

“It had three eyes. Told me to come with him, so I did. We went down into the crypt, and my father was there,” Bran recounted to Osha.

“Your father’s not down there, little lord, not for many years yet,” Osha said, a twinge of uneasiness creeping into her voice when they passed the crypts. The wildling woman was clearly unnerved.

“You’re afraid,” Bran pointed out. “Just like Hodor. You’ve been beyond the Wall, what’s there to be scared of? I’m a crippled boy and I’m willing to go.”

Osha looked up at him and begrudgingly descended the steps to the crypts beneath Winterfell. As they passed each one, Bran told her of each of his dead family members. When they passed Lyanna, Bran nodded to one of the empty culverts. “That’s where I saw my father. He was pale and sickly, laying on a bed.”

“You see? He’s not here,” Osha said, seemingly trying to convince herself more than Bran.

As they watched, a shadow began to move in the darkness, followed by savage growling. The beast leapt forward as the two fell to the ground, Osha shielding Bran until a high-pitched voice called the beast off. “Here, Shaggy Dog.”

“Rickon!” Bran cried.

“That beast is supposed to be chained in the kennels!” Osha exclaimed.

Rickon shook his head. “No, he doesn’t like chains.”

“What are you doing down here?” Bran asked.

“I came to see Father,” Rickon said matter-of-factly. “I saw him last night when I was sleeping.”

Bran turned his head to stare at Osha, who was also wide-eyed. “You’re not telling me something.”

When the two emerged back in the courtyard, Osha relented. “There is a legend among the Free Folk. It tells of a Three-Eyed Raven who remembers all that has ever been. Why he’s appearing to you in your dreams, I do not know.”

“What does it mean?” Bran asked.

Osha looked up at Bran, her eyes hard and masking. “I don’t know. Something bad.”

* * *

Arya crouched next to Gendry in a secluded corner by the forges. Gendry had managed to procure three swords, stashing them here without anyone noticing. With Tywin having left already, there were few left but a skeleton garrison, meaning fewer guards at the gates. Hot Pie sat on a barrel behind the two of them, ranting about the crusts of pie and how he longed for a warm oven. 

“Shut up,” Arya snapped. “What did you bring?”

“A wheel of cheese. Some nice sausages, too,” Hot Pie nodded.

Arya turned back to watching the gate with Gendry. “What is it he wants to do about those guards?” the smith asked.

Arya shook her head. “He didn’t say. He just said walk through the gates.”

“What about the guards?”

“He didn’t say anything about the guards,” Arya repeated.

“Oh, he just left that bit out? That’s a pretty important part, don’t you think?”

“We have to trust him,” Arya said firmly.

“I want to go back to the kitchens,” Hot Pie complained, rubbing his arms from both fear and the slight chill in the air.

“Shut up,” Arya snapped again. “Stay here if you’re afraid.”

With that, Arya stood and began her walk towards the gates. Gendry quickly rose to follow, the two of them keeping their heads low. Hot Pie groaned and followed the pair, waddling as fast as he dared. As they drew closer to the gates, it seemed odd that they hadn’t been stopped yet. Two guards were clearly on duty, but they hadn’t spoken up yet. Perhaps they were asleep?

As they drew closer, Arya noticed that the men seemed propped up. Blood dripped out of their armor, and they were impaled, fastened to the cobblestones behind them. Arya looked back to Gendry with a smile, and led the way out of the gates, free for the first time in months.

* * *

“Jaqen got us out of Harrenhal, so why are you complaining?” Arya demanded from the irritated smith. 

Gendry shrugged, leading the way with his sword drawn. “You could have ended the war.”

Arya stopped with a sigh. “Where are we going?”

“North.”

“If we were going North, we would have come to the Red Fork river by now.”

“Maybe we already passed it?” Hot Pie offered, leaning on his sword. 

Arya looked at him deadpan. “It’s a hundred feet wide. How could we have passed it? If we hit the Red Fork, we can follow it west to Riverrun. My mother grew up there. My grandfather’s the lord, he’ll protect us.”

Suddenly, the three of them heard singing on the road above. They sprinted for a low cobblestone wall for both a better vantage point, as well as a hiding place. “It could be a minstrel,” Hot Pie said, but Arya simply shoved him along.

Arya bent low and peered through a hole in the stones, spying several armed men emerging from the treeline. Even as she watched, the men drew closer. One carried a fine long bow, fingering an arrow. Arya ducked away at the last second, pressing her back to the stone wall, staring at the arrow that had nearly ended her life.

“What’s lurking behind that wall?” she heard the singer call. “A lion? A wolf?”

“Loose a few more shots,” another said.

Arya quickly stepped out of hiding. “Don’t!”

Two men approached. One was the archer, the other the singer. “Put the sword down, girl,” the singer said, taking a swig from his animal skin that Arya had a feeling didn’t contain water.

Arya responded by taking up her water dancing stance. “You go on down the road. Just keep on singing so we know where you are. Just leave us be, and I won’t kill you.”

The entire band, perhaps twenty in all, chuckled collectively. “Generous. You’re a dangerous person,” the singer complimented. “I like dangerous people. Why are your friends so shy?”

“What friends?” Arya asked as innocently as possible. 

The archer smirked. “The fat one to your left and the lad beside him.”

Made, Arya glanced left, and Gendry and Hot Pie stepped from behind the wall to stand next to her, both taking up fighting stances. The singer vaulted over the wall, flanked by his men. He studied them, both hands clasping the skin in front of him.

“Three young ones on the run, carrying castle-forged swords. Have you escaped from Harrehnal?”

“Who are you?” Arya asked.

“Thoros of Myr,” the singer declared proudly. “And the fellow here with the bow is Anguy.”

“No, who do you fight for?” Arya asked.

Thoros stared at her. “The Brotherhood Without Banners. Now come along, I want to hear how two boys and a very dangerous girl escaped from Harrenhal.”

“The Brotherhood? I’m not going with them. That’s who the Mountain and them were looking for. They’ll bring us back and put rats in us,” Hot Pie warned.

Thoros shook his head. “You’ve got nothing to fear from us, son. The lords of Westeros want to burn the countryside. We’re trying to save it. Now come on, we’ll talk some more over brown bread and stew. And then you can go on your way.”

When none of the three escapees moved, Thoros glanced back to Anguy, who drew another arrow. “Here’s the thing, fat boy,” he said as he released it straight into the sky. “When I’m done talking, that arrow is falling down on your fat head. So I advise you move, because I’m done talking.”

Hot Pie, eyes glued to the sky, jumped a foot to the left, said arrow landing exactly where he’d just been standing. Thoros stepped forward, holding his hand out, motioning for them to get moving. Reluctantly, the three escapees climbed back up onto the road, the Brotherhood soldiers following. Thoros took the lead, his drunken, melodic voice once again disturbing the silence of the woods.

* * *

When Austin dismounted underneath a grove of trees, he was sore all over. He hadn’t done much riding over the past few weeks, and it had taken its toll on his body. The Hound seemed to be in equal pain, though he did a better job of disguising it. The Clegane simply unsaddled his horse, tied it to a tree, and opened a wineskin. 

“Really? You’re serious?” Austin asked.

The Hound took one look at Austin. “Fuck off. You’re too honourable to murder me in my sleep.”

“You’re right about that, but what if any Lannister men show up?”

“Drunk or not, I’ll always be able to kill Lannisters.”

Austin sighed and unsaddled his own horse, making sure to give the animal plenty of space to graze before he laid down, using the hard leather of the saddle for a pillow. Despite the harsh conditions, Austin fell asleep within moments. It was a fairly peaceful sleep, at least until he was roughly awakened by being hauled to his feet by unknown assailants.

They’d disarmed him of his sword, so Austin fought them with his bare hands. He struggled and thrashed about, landing a few good shots before a kick to the back of his knee sent him to the ground, where they forced his hands behind his back. After they’d thrust a sack over his head, Austin could hear the same being done to the Hound to his left.

Evidently, the larger man was putting up much more of a fight than Austin did, for it took nearly a minute for the Clegane to be subdued. Assuming that both of them had been bound and sacked, Austin growled. 

“I fucking told you, Clegane.”

“You’re a cunt, Dayne.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Jostled once again by the rickety wooden cart they’d been thrown on, Austin bumped into the Hound next to him. The Clegane growled and struggled, but their bindings were too strong even for the monstrous strength of the former Kingsguard. This continued for several hours until the cart stopped abruptly, and the two were dragged off and hauled to their feet, only to be shoved in a direction, two men for each of them.

Hearing a the buzz of activity ahead of them, Austin knew they must be somewhere like an inn or house, because they were still outdoors. The whole place cheered when Austin felt his feet hit solid wood, no doubt because of their capture. Then, Austin heard a familiar voice.

“Those are two large persons. This one is  _ uncommonly _ large. How does one manage to subdue two such large persons?”

“You wait for both to fall asleep, the larger one having drunk himself there,” a voice replied. 

“Poor men, you both have my sympathy,” the first voice replied. Austin heard the obvious sound of a sack being snatched off of the Hound’s head. “Not a man at all, a  _ Hound _ ! And who might this be?”

The sack over Austin’s head was now snatched away, and the Dayne squinted as his eyes readjusted to the light. When they refocused, he saw a shorter man in front of him, clothed in all red, a sword at his hip. Thoros of Myr.

“Ser Austin Dayne. Just what might you be doing in such… _ unsavory _ company?” the warrior priest asked, looking to the Hound as he did so. “So good to see you again, Clegane,” he finished sarcastically.

“Thoros? The fuck you doing here?” the Clegane to Austin’s right asked.

“Drinking and talking, same as everyone else. But you didn;t answer my question.”

“He helped me escape King’s Landing,” Austin said. “Dragged me out is more accurate.”

“Why were you back in the capital?”

“I was sent to negotiate with Stannis Baratheon by King Ned, but Stannis demanded I remain with him, so I fought in the siege,” Austin replied honestly.

Thoros nodded. “Yes, but why would a Clegane drag a Dayne off of a battlefield and flee the capital with him?”

“He believes I am his only chance of getting a pardon from Ned Stark.”

Thoros looked to the Hound. “That true Clegane? Why would you want to join the Starks?”

“I have my reasons,” the Hound said darkly.

Thoros smirked, then signaled to the men behind Austin, who cut his bonds. “Ser Austin here is a friend, I can’t say the same for you, Clegane.”

The Hound scoffed, his eyes rolling as his head adjusted to the side. As he completed this movement, three younger people attempted to sneak out of the inn, but the Hound caught them, even recognizing one of them. 

“Girl!” he turned to Thoros, an accusing expression on his face. “What in seven hells are you doing with the Stark bitch?”

The pair of them turned their gaze to the shortest one of the young trio. Hearing the word Stark, Austin’s head snapped to the right. He shoved the Hound out of the way, the Clegane colliding with and knocking over Thoros, hands still bound. Austin walked straight up to the shortest one, who adopted an embarrassed look, bowing her head. As Austin dropped to one knee, he studied her clothing. He realized she was traveling dressed as a boy, and made a mental note of her cleverness.

The dark brown hair matched, so Austin reached forward and raised the girls chin to stare directly in her eyes. She stared back, the wild, dark brown eyes giving away instantly who she was. 

“Arya?”

“Hello Ser Austin.”

The Dayne was jerked out of his amazement by a groan to his left. The Hound was still on top of Thoros, and yet the Red Priest had somehow managed not to spill his skin of rum. 

“As touching as your reunion is, Clegane is bloody heavy.”

* * *

As Edric strode through the courtyard of Harrenhal, he couldn’t help but sweat nervously. It’d been days since the battle of Blackwater Bay, and still no word from Stannis or Austin. Edric was beginning to fear the worst, which is why he was nervous after being summoned by the king. 

He climbed the steps towards the great hall quickly, the door opened for him by Ser Marlon, who stood guard outside the door. Edric nodded to the man, who closed the door behind him. Inside, Ned stood at the window on the opposite side of the room, with Lady Catelyn and Ser Barristan seated at the long table in front of him.

Edric bowed shortly. “You summoned me, Your Grace.”

“Show him,” Ned said, still facing the window.

Edric looked down to Ser Barristan, who had a slip of paper in his hands. It was slightly curled, meaning it was from a raven. Edric stepped forward and unrolled it to read the whole thing. It read:

_ To Eddard Stark the King in the North, our siege of King’s Landing has failed.  _

_ Tywin Lannister, aided by the Tyrell army, broke our foothold on the beach, and  _

_ forced us back into the sea. I have retreated back to Dragonstone, and await  _

_ your next move. In regards to Ser Austin, I regret to inform you that he is no longer _

_ in my company. Whether taken prisoner by the Lannisters or killed, I do not know.  _

_ ~ King Stannis Baratheon _

Edric placed the slip of paper back on the table, running his hands through his long, white hair as he thought. He glanced to Lady Stark, whose eyes were full of worry and empathy, neither of which Edric needed at the moment. He looked to Ser Barristan, who had a confident look, the two of them thinking the same thing.

“Austin’s alive,” Edric declared.

Lady Stark shook her head. “No, we don’t know that for su-”

“ _ I _ know it! Austin is too tough, too stubborn to die to some Lannister footsoldier on some nameless beach!” Edric exclaimed.

Ned finally turned to face the Dayne. “I agree. But that still leaves the possibility that he is a prisoner. The Lannisters now hold more bargaining power than we do. Tywin Lannister will never trade both Sansa and Austin for Jaime.”

“He might, if you back him into a corner,” Ser Barristan offered.

Ned looked to the elder knight. “What do you have in mind?”

The man nicknamed the Bold rose to his feet and walked over to the map of Westeros that sat on the adjacent table. “If we close around him, he may be forced to agree to your terms. He will never agree to peace, but he may agree to a prisoner exchange.”

Ned and Edric followed the old knight over to the map, even Lady Stark joining them. They studied the pieces on the board. Four lions were clustered around King’s Landing. Three stags sat in the Stormlands, and two roses sat at Highgarden. Two twin towers sat at the twins,and three wolves sat at Harrenhal while a single fish sat at Riverrun.

“We know Stannis has fled to Dragonstone, sustaining heavy casualties,” Ser Barristan said, removing a stag from the board and placing the remaining two on Dragonstone. 

“We also know that the Tyrells have allied with the Lannisters,” he said, placing the two roses at King’s Landing with the lions.

Ned placed his fingers on his chin, stroking his beard. “So the question is, how do we box them in? They outnumber us now.”

Edric shook his head. “But they don’t. Stannis is still our ally, and we can call the Frey troops down from the Twins.”

“What are you getting at?” Lady Catelyn asked.

Edric smirked, an idea having fully formed in his head. “If we move east, we can cut off Tywin from the north by besieging Duskendale,” he said, moving the three wolves towards the large port city.

“But that would leave our flanks exposed, and we could be slaughtered against the walls,” Ser Barristan advised.

Edric shook his head. “Not with Stannis landing in the Stormlands and moving towards King’s Landing’s southern border.”

“What if that doesn’t deter Tywin enough? He could leave the Tyrells in King’s Landing, or he could stay and the Tyrells could move on Stannis,” Ned asked.

“Which house has the largest army at the moment?” Edric asked.

Ned raised an eyebrow. “Besides House Stark? That would be House Bolton ever since the Karstarks left a fortnight ago.”

Edric nodded. “So House Bolton and House Frey will cover our western flank, and can move to intercept Tywin if he marches on us, leaving the rest of ours and the Tully forces to besiege the city.”

“And once we take the city, we will have Tywin surrounded. He’ll be forced to exchange Sansa and Austin for Ser Jaime,” said Barristan.

Ned cracked a small smile. “Call for a raven. Tell Stannis Baratheon that we march for Duskendale.”

* * *

Trudging through the deep snow, Jon couldn’t help but notice that these wildling furs were much warmer than his Night’s Watch leather and cloak ever was. Mance had called for the wildlings to break camp and begin their march towards the wall. Jon was ordered not to stray from the King Beyond the Wall, and Ygritte in turn never strayed far from Jon.

Jon paused tin his march to think for a moment, and Mance walked up behind him. “Was it hard for you to kill the Halfhand?” he asked.

Jon nodded. “Yes.”

“You liked him?” Mance asked, knowing the answer before Jon even nodded. “I like you but if you’re playing us false it won’t be hard for me to kill you. I’ve got wildling blood in my veins, these are my people.”

“I understand,” Jon responded as the pair continued their march. 

Mance chuckled. “Well how could you understand?”

Jon turned to him. “You want to protect your people.”

“Do you know what it takes to unite ninety clans, half of whom want to massacre the other half from one insult to another?” Mance asked, cocking his head to the side. “They speak seven different languages in my army. The Thenns hate the Hornfoots, the Hornfoots hate the Ice River Clans. Everyone hates the cave people. So, do you know how I got moon worshippers and cannibals and giants to march together in the same army?”

Jon shook his head honestly. “No.”

Mance looked him right in the eye. “I told them we were all going to die if we don’t get South. Because that’s the truth.”

With that, Mance led the way off to a small rock, where Tormund and Ygritte stood, staring at a man with glazed eyes who sat on the rock. Tormund nodded to Mance when he and Jon approached. “Shouldn’t be long now.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Jon asked, eyes flitting between the eagle in the sky and the man with glazed eyes.

“He’s a warg,” Mance said. “He can enter the mind of animals, see through their eyes. He’s scouting for us.”

“You’ve never met a warg?” Ygritte asked, genuinely confused as to how one couldn’t have met a warg.

Jon’s gaze returned to the seated man. “Orell!” Mance said forcefully, waking the man from his trance. “Where were you this time?”

“The Fist of the First Men,” Orell said.

Mance leaned forward. “What’d you see?”

Orell looked directly at Jon, smiling. “Dead crows.”

* * *

Austin was actually grateful for the horse he’d been given this time, for they’d been on the march for several days, most of the men of the Brotherhood having to walk on foot. The Hound had been transported in the same rickety cart that they’d been captured in, but he had more room to move around since Austin was no longer keeping him company.

The past few days of travel, Arya had recounted her tale, from the moment she witnessed Austin demand the Trial by Seven to her being at that inn with Thoros. Austin occasionally asked questions, but he got the feeling that Arya was hiding something, as she refused to state the nature of their escape, providing only vague answers.

Several days after their departure from the inn, they’d arrived in a forest, which Austin knew to be in the southern direction, as they’d passed Stoney Sept on their way here. Thoros rode at the head of the column, swigging his rum like the most carefree man in the world. Austin rode second, Arya riding with her hands around his waist. Her friends Gendry and Hot Pie rode next, horses being led from the reins by Brotherhood soldiers. 

“Can I take this hood off yet?” Arya asked loudly.

“I do apologize, little lady, but it’s better for you if you don’t see where we’re going,” Thoros called from in front. He then raised his flask of rum. “You want some, Dayne?”

Austin shook his head. “I think I’ll stick to water.”

Thoros shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Within minutes, Thoros called halt, and the procession all dismounted. Austin led Arya by the hand, following Thoros below a small waterfall that turned into a stream. Underneath, the mouth of a cave became visible, lit only by the light of torches and a blazing fire in the center, over which several racks of meat were roasting.

Arya, Gendry, and Hot Pie were lined up next to Austin, their hoods removed. Thoros bowed, waving to the cave. “Welcome to Hollow Hill.”

As the Hound was brought in, Thoros stopped the men escorting him and removed the hood. The Clegane looked around the cave, chuckling as he saw the men that made up the Brotherhood. “You look like a bunch of swineherds.”

“Some of us were swineherds, and tanners, and masons,” Anguy said. “That was before.”

Sandor looked at Anguy with a disinterested expression. “You’re still swineherds and tanners and masons. You think carrying a crooked spear makes you a soldier?”

“No,” a voice responded. On the cave wall opposite from where Austin stood with Arya and her friends, the group of Brotherhood men parted to allow a figure through. The eye patch and raspy, guttural voice were dead giveaways. He was the Lightning Lord, Beric Dondarrion, who Austin hadn’t seen since the Trial By Seven. 

“Fighting in a war makes you a soldier,” Beric said. 

“Beric Dondarrion?” the Hound said, astounded. “I killed you.”

“Aye, you did. But the Lord of Light brought me back once again. He is the one true god.”

The Hound looked around the cave once again. “Stark deserters, Baratheon deserters,” Austin eyed the former with disappointment, “you lot aren't fighting in a war, you’re running from it,” he Hound said.

“Last I heard, you’d survived the Trial and continued to be King Joffrey’s guard dog. Even joined his Kingsguard. But here you are. Tell me, who’s running?” Beric asked, tilting his head so he could better see the Hound out of his one eye.

“Untie these ropes and we’ll find out,” the Hound threatened. “What’re you doing? Leading a mob of peasants.”

“Ned Stark ordered me to execute your brother, in the name of King Robert,” Beric declared.

Sandor scoffed. “Ned Stark. He’s fled the capital and risen in rebellion. King Robert is dead. My brother’s alive.”

Beric sighed. “The Brotherhood without Banners will always hunt down those who prey on the weak.”

The Hound rolled his eyes. “If you mean to murder me then bloody well get on with it.”

“You’ll die soon enough, dog,” Thoros spat. “But it won’t be murder, only justice.”

“And that would be justice for what exactly?”

“At the Mummer’s Ford, girls of seven were raped, babes crushed in their mother’s arms.” Anguy said.

The Hound shook his head. “I wasn’t at the Mummer’s Ford. You can lay your dead children at some other door.”

“House Clegane was built on dead children. I saw them lay Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys before the Iron Throne.”

“Do you take me for my brother? Is being born a Clegane a crime?” the Hound asked, staring circles around the room. “I never touched the Targaryen babes. Never saw them, never heard them bawling. You want to cut my throat? Get on with it! But don’t call me murderer and pretend you’re not.”

Just when the Hound’s argument seemed so solid, Arya spoke up. “You murdered Mycah! The butcher’s boy. You rode him down and slung him over your horse like some deer.”

“Aye, he was a bleeder,” the Hound nodded. 

Beric turned to the hound after listening to Arya. “You don’t deny killing this boy?”

“I was Joffrey’s sworn shield, the boy attacked the Prince.”

“That’s a lie! I attacked Joffrey,” Arya said.

“Well then I should have killed you! You, too, Dayne. I seem to remember you knocking Joffrey to the dirt,” the Clegane said.

Beric stepped up to the Hound. “You stand accused of murder. But no one here knows the truth of the charges, so it is not for us to judge you. Only the Lord of Light may do that now. I sentence you to trial by combat.”

The Hound looked around the cave for any kind of defense, eyes settling on Austin. The Dayne put his hands up. “Don’t look at me, it’s hard to argue with their reasoning.”

The Hound smirked and continued to look around the cave. “So, who will it be? Shall we find out if your Fire God really loves you, priest? Of you, archer, what are you worth with a sword in your hand? What about you, Dayne? Maybe you can live up to your reputation.” Or is the little girl the bravest one here?”

Beric turned back to look at Arya. “Aye, she might be. But it’s me you’ll fight.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

With the clanging of metal and business of the courtyard, Ned listened in satisfaction as his wife helped him into his armor. Her hands were deft, easily running through the motions, born of experience. She and Ned exchanged loving looks whenever she would glance up at his face, but Ned knew she was unhappy. 

“You need to leave,” he said quietly.

She bit back a laugh. “Oh, don’t be silly, Ned. You’ve never been able to put this on by yourself.”

The King in the North shook his head, taking her hands in his as he stared into her eyes. “I mean you need to go home. Back to Winterfell. Bran and Rickon need you.”

Catelyn began to tear up. “I can’t just leave you here, and we haven’t gotten our Sansa back!” she protested.

“Cat, look at me. I swear by the Old Gods and the New that I will get our daughter back. With any luck, Arya will be arriving at Winterfell soon, so three of our children will be safe. They need you, Cat. More than I ever could, they need you.”

Lady Stark pulled out of Ned’s grip, moving to stare out the window as she wiped the tears from her eyes. As she watched the men below prepare for their impending march, she was reminded of the previous two times that Ned rode off to war. In one, he came back with another woman’s child, and the other forced one of her adoptive sons into the woods for a number of years. She couldn’t help but wonder if this would be his last war, or if he would even see the end of it.

She whirled back around, her expression now hardened. “You have to promise me another thing.”

“Anything,” Ned nodded.

“You  _ will _ survive this. And you  _ will _ find our son. And you  _ will _ get our girl back. You  _ will _ see me again,” she said, jabbing her finger into his chest for emphasis.

Ned wrapped his arms around her and placed his chin on top of her head. “I promise. I will see you again.”

Catelyn melted into his embrace, enjoying one of their last moments together for a long time. It was short-lived, however, as several hours later, she rode off with her escort, Ser Rodrik, out the gates of Harrenhal, headed back to Winterfell with abandon. Her eagerness to see her younger children was only outweighed by her worry for her husband and two oldest children. 

Even as Ned stood in the gateway, watching her figure fade away into the distance, a sense of foreboding washed over him, as if he’d only seen the beginning of this war, as if it would drag on for years. He had no idea how correct his gut would prove to be as he turned back into the melted stone castle.

* * *

Austin turned his attention from Arya to Thoros as the priest stepped towards the roaring fire in the center of the cave. The Hound was cut loose, and handed a sword and wooden shield. Beric knelt in front of Thoros. 

“Lord,” Thoros began a prayer. “Cast your light upon us. Show us the truth. Strike this man down if he is guilty, give strength to his sword if he is true. Lord of Light, give us wisdom. For the Night is dark and full of terrors.”

Thoros stepped towards Beric, holding a sword in his hands, cut the palm of the Lightning Lord, drawing blood. He then passed the blade to Beric, who gripped it by the hilt and scanned its length. Then, to the amazement of Austin, Arya, and her friends, he ran his bloodied hand from the base of the blade to the tip. Red flames shot up as he did so, coating the blade in a fiery aura that matched Thoros’.

The one-eyed leader of the Brotherhood turned to face the Hound, a determined look in his eye. The Clegane took a few wary steps back at the sight of the blade, his well-known fear of fire getting the better of him. The two began to pace side to side until Sandor sprung forward with a fierce yell, steel clashing with flaming steel. Beric pivoted, keeping his shield between him and the larger, stronger opponent.

Beric twirled his blade in circles, the flames crating a mirage, forcing the Hound’s eyes to look elsewhere while Beric’s blade descended towards his neck. The Hound brought his blade up in the nick of time, blocking the blow with one hand. He shoved Beric back, and the two eyed eachother warily. Beric tilted his head to one side in a challenge, forcing the Hound’s hand.

The Clegane stepped forward, aiming a shield bash, but Beric ducked under it and brought his blade up behind him, never turning his head when the Hound tried a backhanded blow, as if he knew where the Hound’s sword would go. He forced the Hound backwards, into the crowd, forcing the Clegane to chuck members of the Brotherhood at Beric, who turned them aside with his shield. One made him stumble a bit, and that was when the Hound made his move. 

He hammered away at Beric’s flimsy wooden shield with hard strikes, splintering the material with each one until the Lightning Lord was left with little more than a few wooden straps on his left arm. Forced on the defensive, Beric had little choice than to go on the attack to preserve himself. He managed to catch the Hound’s shield on fire when it impacted the wood, causing a momentary distraction that allowed him to press even harder upon the Clegane’s defenses.

The Hound was torn between freeing himself from the flaming object attached to his arm, and the opponent who was attempting to dispatch him with a flaming sword. In his distraction, the Hound tripped, and Beric hammered down on the already flaming shield with everything he had, over and over, even beginning to splinter the wood. Until the Hound managed to land a kick to the midsection of the Lightning Lord. Beric stumbled backwards, and the Hound shot to his feet, chasing after Beric like a rabid dog. He swung faster and harder at Beric, forcing the man to give ground, until no more ground could be given. 

Beric dropped to one knee and raised his sword in a last ditch effort to stop the Hound’s advance, but the steel of the Clegane cleaved Beric’s own in twain, continuing downwards until it bit into his shoulder. Beric fell to the side, left shoulder hanging off like a peel from a Dornish banana. 

Victorious, the Hound busied himself with freeing himself from the flaming shield as Thoros dove on the body of Beric. He began to recite a fast prayer, the words of which Austin could not discern. What he did notice, though, was Arya removing the sword from his left side and attempting to rush at the Hound. Austin grabbed her by the shirt collar and yanked her backwards, reclaiming his sword and restraining the Stark girl.

“No! Let me go!” she screamed, staring murderously at the Hound. 

The Clegane simply smiled. “Looks like their god likes me more than your butcher’s boy.”

“Burn in hell!” Arya shouted.

The next words both chilled Austin’s bones, and made his blood run hot with memory. “He will,” said the guttural voice from beside the fire.

Beric was kneeling next to Thoros, no newly visible wounds other than those he’d already sustained. “But not today,” he finished.

The Hound stared, wide-eyed, witnessing Beric’s resurrection for the first time. He knew that Beric had somehow been resurrected after he’d killed him in the Trial by Seven, but seeing it in action was a different story entirely. 

Austin felt the same as he did that day of the Trial, afraid and amazed at the power of the so called Lord of Light, and the fact that Thoros seemed to be able to bring this man back from death whenever he wanted. 

Austin’s attention was torn away from the newly resurrected Lightning Lord by a new group of individuals entering the cave from above. The one at the head of the column was in light northern leather, a woman walking behind him in a simple dress. He had curly hair, and a mass of grey fur shadowed him.

“Did I miss something, Beric?” the man asked.

Forgetting his grip on Arya, Austin rose to his feet with hard, angry eyes, and marched directly towards Robb Stark, the heir of Winterfell. The Young Wolf’s brown eyes lit up when he saw the Dayne approaching. 

“Austin, is that-”

He never got to finish his sentence, as Austin’s bare fist collided with the Northman’s jaw, sending him sprawling to the cave floor. 

* * *

Jon was beginning to see similar landmarks as they drew closer to their destination. When they reached the summit, he saw trenches and latrine pits that had been dug by the men of the Night’s Watch, who were all missing. 

Mance forged ahead with Tormund, towards heaps of frozen black and brown rocks. The King Beyond the Wall knelt in the snow to study them. “Always the artists,” he muttered.

That was when Jon realized that the rocks weren’t rocks. Rather, they were severed horse parts, frozen by the weather, and arranged in a spiraling pattern that the White Walkers seemed to love leaving behind. 

“It’s only horses,” Jon noticed. “No men.”

“You said there was dead crows,” Ygritte directed at Orell, who nodded.

“There was.”

“How many men were here?” Mance asked Jon.

“About three hundred.”

“And do you know what those men are now?” Mance asked. “All the same, meat for their army.”

“Do you think anyone got away?” Jon wondered.

Manc shrugged. “It’s not impossible. You don’t go far betting against Mormont. But dead or alive, he took a big gamble coming North, and he lost. His best fighting men are dead. And whether he’s Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. Or a blue-eyed corpse, he’s a long way from home. Tormund! Climb the Wall. Take Orell and twenty good men, and take this one. He knows Castle Black’s defenses better than any of us. If he’s useful, good. If not, throw him off the Wall. See if crows can fly.”

Tormund stepped up to Mance with a gleam in his eye. “We’re finally going to war old friend?”

Mance nodded. “Hide near Castle Black. When I give the signal, hit them in the night. They’ve got a big wall to hide behind, but it only guards one side.”

“We’ll meet again,” Tormund chuckled.

“Aye, if you do your job,” Mance said, turning on his heel. 

“How will we see your signal?” Orell asked.

“Send your eagle above the Wall every night. When it’s time, I’m going to light the biggest fire the North has ever seen!”

* * *

It was nearly a week into their journey towards the Wall when Jon was stopped by Orell and Tormund after a firewood run. Tormund was eating meat off of a bone as the warg stared at Jon menacingly. 

“Orell says there are crows patrolling the Wall,” Tormund said, tossing the bone behind him. “Tell me what you know.”

Jon looked past Orell to the seated Giantsbane. “There are four to a patrol. Two rangers to watch for enemies, and two builders to check for structural damage.”

“How often do these patrols go out?” Orell asked, eyes never leaving Jon’s.

“It varies,” Jon stated. “If I knew where on the Wall we were heading, I could tell you.”

“You’d like to know that?” Orell said with a smirk, clearly not trusting Jon. “There are nineteen castles guarding the Wall. How many are manned?”

“Three,” Jon said firmly.

“You sure of that? Which three?”

“Castle Black,” Jon began.

“Aye, Castle Black,” Orell said. “Everyone knows Castle Black. Which others?”

“Eastwatch by the Sea, and the Shadow Tower,” Jon said, looking down at Tormund.

The ginger nodded to himself before asking Jon another question. “How many men remain at Castle Black?”

“A thousand,” Jon answered quickly.

“Liar,” Orell accused.

Jon scrunched his face in anger, thrusting down his bundle of firewood and stepping up to the warg. “What happens to your eagle after I kill you? Does he drift away like a kite with its strings cut? Or does he just flop dead to the ground?”

“He’s no crow,” Ygritte defended, standing next to Jon.

Orell scoffed. “Just cause you want him inside of you doesn’t make him one of us.”

Tormund rose to his feet, grabbed Orell, and threw him to the ground, standing in his place to face Jon. “I like you, boy. But if you lie to me, I’ll pull your guts out through your throat.”

“A thousand men,” Jon repeated forcefully. He and Tormund exchanged long glares until Ygritte grabbed Jon by one arm and led him off. 

“I don’t need you to protect me,” he shot.

“Of course you do. Who stopped Lord of Bones when he was about to cut your throat? Who vouched for you with Mance? It seems you owe me a debt,” she said with a smile. The next thing Jon knew, she had Longclaw in her gloved hands, and was running off up a nearby hill. 

“Give it back!” Jon called after her.

She shrugged. “Well I stole it. It’s mine. You want it, come take it back.”

* * *

Bran was helping Maester Luwin with the issues for the day, meetings with common folk and such. He had a surprisingly good mind for ruling, no doubt passed down from his father. Luwin gave him several approving nods whenever Bran successfully resolved an issue on his own. 

Summer lounged below the table, gnawing on a large cow bone from the kitchens when one of the guards entered to announce their final guests. “Lord Stark, this is Jojen and Meera Reed.”

Entering the hall was a thin, blonde boy wrapped in rich furs, and next to him, a girl with curlier hair than Rickon, wrapped in those same furs. Luwin did a double take in surprise. “Not the children of Lord Howland Reed of the Neck?”

“The same,” the boy bowed. “Brandon Stark. We’ve been eager to meet you. Your visions are known to me.”

Bran froze, turning his head to look at Osha, who was sweeping the floor off to the side. She, too, had halted her task to stare at the newcomers. Taking note of this, Jojen looked to Bran. “These things are better said in private.”

Affirming that they had no other appointments for the day, Bran had Hodor carry him into the adjacent room, where he was placed at the head of the table. Luwin sat to his right, and Jojen and Meera were seated to his left. Summer followed and plopped down next to Bran’s chair, busying himself with the cow bone once again.

Jojen nodded down to the dire wolf. “You can get inside his head, see through his eyes.”

“Only when I’m asleep,” Bran replied. “And I always have the same dream when I do it.”

“That’s how it begins until you learn to control it,” Jojen stated. 

Luwin spread his hands, interrupting the conversation. “Have I missed something? What are these preposterous visions you speak of?”

“I’ve been having dreams through Summer’s eyes. I always see my father in the crypts, lying sick on a bed, coughing up blood. But it’s not just wolves. Sometimes it’s a-”

“Three-eyed raven,” Jojen finished. “You’re a warg.”

“Does the raven have anything to do with warging?”

“No, the raven is something deeper. The raven brings the sight,” Jojen said.

“Things that haven’t happened yet?” Bran asked.

Jojen nodded. “Or things that happened before you were born, or things happening right now, thousands of miles away.”

At this point, Luwin deteriorated into a bout of laughter. “Visions and wargs, seeing the past and future. The two of you are starting to sound like Old Nan.”

“What else have you seen?” Bran asked Jojen, completely ignoring the elderly maester.

Jojen smiled. “My father never spoke of the Rebellion. I always wished that he did, until I saw it. But I see the only real thing that matters...you.”

“Why am I so important?” Bran asked. 

Jojen shook his head and shrugged. “Only the three-eyed raven can answer that.”

Bran perked up. “He’s coming here?”

“No, we have to go to him,” Jojen said. “Beyond the Wall.”

“But I can’t go beyond the Wall! I have responsibilities here, and I can’t even ride!” Bran cried.

Jojen looked at Bran with a blank expression. “None of this prevents you from becoming what you were meant to be.”

* * *

As Ned crested the hills of Rosby, he saw the entire Northern army below him, busying themselves with siege preparations. Hundreds of men were digging trenches with efficiency. Thousands more were setting up the tents, and they stretched for a couple miles, in a half circle around the perimeter of Duskendale. 

Ned knew that they could never starve the port city out, not while they had access to the sea, but that was where it payed off to have allies. Stannis had dispatched two dozen warships to blockade the port while the remainder of his fleet ferried his men to King’s Landing’s southern border. 

As he rode towards the large command tent at the center of the half circle, all troops ceased their activities to bow and wish their King in the North well. Ned nodded when he could, waving at groups as he passed them, attempting to raise morale, seeing as how sieges were dull. 

When he dismounted, throwing the flaps of the tent open, he found Ser Barristan, Ser Wendel, and Ser Marlon setting up his war table. This time, the map focused only on the Crownlands, and the pieces had changed significantly since he last saw them. 

All of the wolves now surrounded Duskendale. The twin towers of the Freys and the flayed man of the Boltons sat to their left, encamped on the Kingsroad. The stags had moved to just on the other side of the Blackwater river from King’s Landing. Ned nodded to himself.

“It seems that Edric’s strategy is going as planned.”

Ser Barristan bowed. “It is, Your Grace.”

“Speaking of Edric, where is he?”

“I believe he took Ingavar for a walk,” Ser Marlon relayed. 

Ned nodded. “Alright. When he returns, we’ll plan the siege.”

“Are we not to starve them out, Your Grace?” Ser Wendel asked.

Ned fingered one of the lion pieces that sat on King’s Landing. “I don’t want to give Tywin Lannister any more time to think of a way to weasel out of this situation. We are close to ending this war, and I want to press our advantage.”

The three Wolfguard bowed. “Your Grace.”

Somehow, even as Ned studied the map, his eyes kept being pulled to the flayed man and twin towers pieces. His gut told him that something was wrong, but studying the map could not provide the solution. He would curse himself later.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

The severely outnumbered garrison of Duskendale looked on as the Northern army formed up outside their walls, beyond the reach of their arrows. Thousands upon thousands of brown figures with silver gleams atop their heads were preparing themselves for the coming siege. After a week of construction, layers of trenches had been dug, and ladders and a battering ram had been built. Lined up with the gate, the ram had a fierce wolf’s head carved into the front end, and was covered by a wooden ceiling. Platoons of men stretched to either side, all carrying ladders with which to scale the walls. 

Ned stepped out of his tent and headed towards the front lines. Ice was strapped securely around his shoulders, feeling its comfortable weight on his back. He was flanked by the Wolfguard and the rest of the vanguard. Edric, the Greatjon, and Galbart Glover the most prominent names. 

The Wolfguard armor was something special that Mikken had worked up over the past few weeks. It started with the standard boiled leather gambeson, but had chainmail sleeves, and a collar plate with an engraving of a dire wolf on it. Wolfskin cloaks hung from their shoulders, down to the heels of their mail-covered boots. Atop their heads, six silver helmets, crafted in the likeness of snarling wolves, covered their skulls. The muzzles extended several inches in front of their faces, the teeth giving their view a jagged look. The jaws of the wolves ran along their own, hugging their cheeks tightly. Edric was clad in the same armor, minus the helmet, his long, white hair tied back in a ponytail. 

The six Wolfguard, under the command of Ser Barristan in the absence of Ser Austin, marched behind their king in a v-formation, with Edric and the rest of the vanguard behind. When they reached the front lines, the men nearest to them turned their heads to gape in awe, wide smiles breaking out at both the presence of their king, as well as the ferocious look of his Wolfguard.

“We await your command, Your Grace! This city will be yours in a matter of hours!” a nearby captain proclaimed boldly.

Ned allowed himself a small smile at the man’s eagerness before setting his eyes back on the walls ahead. A loud huff, accompanied by heavy, pounding footsteps made the entire vanguard swivel their heads. Lumbering up behind them was Ingavar, clad in his plate armour for he first time. His legs were unburdened, but along his back and shoulders, several plates were fastened with leather straps. Mikken’s crowning achievement, the plates were designed to slide and shift together, allowing the bear full range of movement while protecting his already tough hide. When his head was low to the ground, it looked as if Ingavar had steel spines sprouting from the back of his neck.

When he reached Edric, he planted his feet with a growl, fierce eyes set on the stone ahead. Edric shook his head in wonder, meeting Ned’s gaze, who nodded. Turning back to the walls, a steely look that matched the bear’s, Ned drew Ice.

“Lord Umber! Sound the charge.”

The Greatjon chortled low in his throat, cackling at the prospect of killing Lannister soldiers. He drew his sword and raised it above his seven foot frame. “The King in the North!”

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!” all of the men echoed, grasping their ladders and rushing forward. 

Ingavar rose up on his hind legs and roared a challenge so loud that the Dothraki in Essos would’ve heard it, hurting the already low morale of the defenders. A storm of arrows rained down on the northmen as they drew closer to the walls, but their shields were strong, their resolve stronger. The ram reached the gates at the same time as the first man over the walls. 

The Duskendale garrison attempted to throw the ladders back off of the walls, but there were simply not enough of them to stem the tide of the northmen. After a few dozen rams, the gates cracked open, releasing the tide that had built up against them. The few hundred inside the walls were no match for the thousands that waited to stream into the city.

Just as Ned and his vanguard reached the gates, a rearguard called to him. “Your Grace! Banners on our northern flank!”

Ned followed the man, turning his eyes towards the north. On the horizon, cresting the hill, he could make out a rather large army. Not as large as Ned’s, albeit, but large enough. Two distinct banners could be made out, one of a flayed man, the other of twin grey towers.

“The Freys and Boltons,” Edric recognized. “What are they doing here? They’re supposed to be guarding against Tywin.”

Ned nodded. “Aye, they are. But it seems as though they have sided with Tywin.”

“House Bolton should have been destroyed centuries ago!” spat the Greatjon. “I’ll lead the counterattack,” the Umber said, rounding up the nearest men and turning them towards the north. The entire left side of the northern army ceased their attack on the city and formed up against the new threat. 

Just as they’d fully formed, horns sounded behind Ned. He and the Wolfguard whirled around, spying a sea of red streaming down the hills to their south. Ned dropped his head, shoulders sagging in defeat. Edric’s eyes darted between Ned and the Lannister army.

“Ned! What are your orders?!” he cried.

* * *

“I want my gold!” the Hound demanded. The Brotherhood had taken the champion’s purse that he’d won by saving Loras Tyrell’s life from his brother. Austin would’ve felt the man’s pain, but he was steaming over Robb at the moment, so he didn’t exactly have time for the Hound.

“It says right there on that note you’ll be repaid in full when the war’s over,” Thoros said.

The Clegane threw the slip of paper into the nearby fire. “Piss on that, you’re nothing but thieves!”

“We’re outlaws!” Anguy exclaimed. “Outlaws steal! You’re lucky we didn’t kill you!”

The Hound stepped forward. “Come try it, archer, and I’ll shove those arrows up your ass!”

“You can’t let him go, he’s a murderer, he’s guilty!” Arya shouted, but Austin silenced her. He’d been seated at the side of the fire for the past hour, eyes never leaving the unconscious heap at the other side of the cave, being tended to by the foreign woman. Grey Wind lay at their feet.

Austin pulled Arya down with his right hand, seating her next to him. “Not in the eyes of god,” Beric said, rising to his feet.

The Lightning Lord nodded to Anguy, who tossed the Hound’s weapons to him. The Clegane strapped his belt on then looped his greatsword back over his head. “I’m not leaving this shit heap until I get my gold. So either I kill all of you and take it back, or you’re going to have to get used to me being around.”

“Known murderers are not permitted to join the Brotherhood,” Beric stated.

The Hound chuckled. “Well, which is it? Am I a murderer or aren’t I? Better make up your mind Beric before I have to kill you a third time.”

“Enough! Stop waving your cock around, Clegane,” Austin said gruffly, rising to his feet to ace Beric. “Look, he’s with me. As soon as the unconscious coward over there wakes up, I’ll take him, the girl, and the Hound out of your hair.”

Beric glanced to Thoros, then back to Austin’s stony gaze. “Very well, Ser Austin.”

As if on queue, a groan from the other side of the cave alerted Austin to the fact that Robb had woken up. He strode over to him, standing on Robb’s left side. Talisa was placing a wet cloth n his forehead, but Robb swiped it off and looked up at Austin.

“Let’s take a walk,” the Dayne said, turning on his heel and climbing out of the cave. 

Robb slowly rose to his feet, head throbbing on the side that Austin’s fist had connected with. He moved to Arya first, giving his little sister a tight hug. “We’ll talk later,” he whispered before following Austin out of the cave.

* * *

It was pitch black when Jon left the cave, the only light around coming from the half dozen small fires that warmed the score of Free Folk. He’d left Ygritte inside, gently extricating himself from her grasp as to not wake her. That had been the best moment of his life, which is why it broke his heart to have to do this. 

Having belted on Longclaw, he snuck through the small camp, skirting the firelight. Loud snoring could be heard from Tormund’s tent as Jon padded by, feet gently crunching in the snow. Just when he thought he was home free, the edge of the woods in sight, a voice called out behind him.

“I fucking knew it. Traitorous crow!” Orell accused, stepping out of the shadows with his sword drawn.

Jon sighed, facing the wildling. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t? I’d do the same thing as you. I should have killed you the moment I met you,” he spat.

Jon scoffed. “Aye, but you didn’t, did you? And you’re here alone, which means Tormund doesn’t know about this. It’s just you against me.”

“You’re wrong. It’s just me,” Orell said, lunging forward, dagger aimed for Jon’s heart. Jon sidestepped and drew Longclaw. Orell stumbled when he met no resistance, and Jon brought the Valyrian steel blade downwards, beheading the warg. 

He stood panting for a few seconds, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Out of nowhere, something impacted the snow next to him, causing him to fall backwards in surprise. When nothing moved afterwards, and Jon heard no shouts from the camp, he gingerly stood and leaned over to inspect the snow. Laying on top, wings spread, stiff as could be, was Orell’s eagle.

“Huh,” Jon muttered, wiping his sword on the body of the wildling and sheathing it. He readjusted his hood and stalked off into the wilderness, headed for Castle Black. The journey would be hard alone and on foot, potentially pursued by wildlings, but he owed it to both the Lord Commander and Qhorin Halfhand to survive, and report on what he’d seen.

* * *

Ned’s head rose, eyes calm, too calm for the circumstance. It was a look few had seen before, one that Ned only bore when death was impending. “Forget the city. Rally on me, we face them head on.”

Galbart Glover turned and started barking orders at the captains closest to him. As quick as they could, the right flank of the northern army turned to face the Lannister army. Seeing as how no cavalry were present due to the nature of it being a siege, the northmen were forced to take up a defensive position. All spearmen and pikemen were placed in the foremost ranks, archers and infantry behind. 

At the center of the pike line, Ned stood with his vanguard. Edric took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He hadn’t been in a fight since Renly’s tent, and even then, disarming one man is hardly the same as a full scale battle. What gave him courage, though, was looking down the line, left and right, seeing the men’s faces. Each of them knew they might die, and none fled. 

Robert Baratheon may have had the perfect battlefield voice, but Ned had an aura of command that held every man in place. No doubt many of them wished to run, but they would stand by their lord until their last breath if need be. Ingavar pawed at the ground like a bull ready to charge, his claws leaving deep ruts as he growled at the approaching Lannister forces.

No doubt Tywin had anticipated the spear wall that the northmen had constructed, so he’d sent his infantry first. Lannister longbowmen opened fire from atop the hill, the first few volleys barely denting the northern lines. When the Lannister footmen drew close enough, Ned raised Ice and yelled, charging their lines. Edric and the Wolfguard were hot on his heels, feeling the rumble as the rest of their men followed. Ned’s first swing nearly cut a man in half, the Valyrian steel having cleaved completely through his shield. Edric ducked under a spear thrust, grabbed the polearm, and used it to pull its wielder towards him, running him through the gut with his sword. 

Ingavar smashed into their lines, throwing half a dozen men backwards by himself before a spear glanced off his armor. The bear wisely retreated, standing side by side with Edric, going to work with powerful blows of his paws. Ned and the vanguard were like the head of a spear, driving deep into the Lannister lines, charging ever onward. Thinking that victory was a possibility, the northmen forged ahead with renewed vigor, but it was a trap.

The Lannister’s center lines had intentionally been falling back, allowing their flanks to envelop the northmen. What started as an orderly charge had turned into an all-out brawl in the mud, with the northmen completely surrounded. Arrows continued to fly into the center of their ranks both from the Lannister longbowmen, as well as the defenders of Duskendale, who’d set fire to the battering ram and used it as a barricade, blocking further entry to their city. 

Surrounded on all sides, it had become nothing more than a fierce fight for survival, who wanted to win the most. Edric was constantly forced on the defensive, wishing he had Austin’s skill each time. The multitude of spears surrounding him proved to be the largest issue. Ser Rodrik’s training allowed him to best any of these common soldiers with a sword, but no shield meant he had to use his weapon for defence.He would sweep aside a spear thrust, prepared to stab the man wielding it, only to be met with a thicket, daring him to charge at it. 

Ned was like a deadly wolf, splitting spears and shields and ripping limbs off with Ice. He and the Wolfguard fought in perfect unison, steppin in to cover one another’s flanks whenever needed. Barristan was like a graceful dancer. He was an artist, and the only color he used was red. A veteran of the War of the Ninepenny Kings, Robert’s Rebellion, and now the Northern Secession, Barristan’s experience outweighed almost every man on the field combined.

Ingavar fought like he was possessed by the savagery of nature itself, forcing groups of Lannisters at a time to retreat. And if they refused to back down, he simply mauled them in a matter of seconds before moving on to the next one, jaws dripping with their blood. 

During a lull in the melee, Edric shouted to Ned. “We’ll be cut to pieces, we have to get out of here!”

“They cut off all of our escape routes!” Barristan called.

Ned shook his head, pointing with Ice. “Our trenches prevented them from sealing off our western flank. We need to break out and retreat back to Harrenhal!”

Barristan nodded, relaying the orders to the rest of the vanguard, who in turn barked it to their captains. Ned led the way, Ice cutting a swathe of death through the enemy ranks. The northmen rallied to him, and soon, they threatened to break the Lanisters’ circle. When the red ranks parted, the northmen streamed out, heading directly for their western flank. Ned set up a new defensive position between the trenches while Galbart Glover was sent to relay their movements to the Greatjon, who had his hands full with the combined Frey and Bolton army. 

The King in the North ordered his own archers to fire on the Lannisters, as they were freed from the melee, while he helped protect them with the infantry. Minutes later, the left flank of the Lannisters was shattered when the Greatjon charged into them with what was left of his forces. Ned parted ranks to allow them through, before sounding the retreat. Ned, Edric, the vanguard, and a quarter of the infantry stayed behind to cover the rest of their forces. When the Lannister cavalry began to charge towards them, finally free to move around, Ned ordered the final retreat. 

They ran through what was left of their camp, passing burning tents and tipped over barrels of food. Ingavar lumbered alongside Edric and Ned, his paws trailing blood from the Lannister swords. The vanguard and Wolfguard vaulted onto their horses and rode off as fast as possible, catching up with their rear ranks to keep them safe.

Tywin, from his perch atop the hill, witnessed all of it. His brother, Ser Kevan, rode up towards him. “The Boltons and Freys are signaling pursuit. Should we pursue?”

Tywin shook his head. “No. We have won. Let them run with their tails between their legs.”

“As you say,” Kevan nodded, wheeling his horse around.

Tywin smirked to himself. In a matter of weeks, he’d won two crucial victories against both of his opponents. In another few weeks, the war would be over, he mused to himself. When the last dire wolf banner disappeared over the hills, he smiled in satisfaction.

* * *

“I hope you’re not about to hit me again,” Robb said, holding his hands in front of him to act as a buffer between him and the angry Dayne.

Austin crossed his arms. “I would certainly like to, but you’re a prince. I’d be lucky to get away with that one.”

“I suppose you want to know why I left?”

“That would be the place to start, yes,” he said impatiently.

Robb sat down on a nearby tree stump, and Austin leaned on the trunk of another in front of him. “I just….When Father sent you to tell me I had a duty to marry the Frey girl, I grew angry. I’m in love with Talisa, and I don’t want to give her up.”

“Do you have any idea how stupid that was?” Austin demanded. “If you’d been captured by the Lannisters, they would have had absolute advantage in this war.”

Robb dropped his head. “Aye, I know. Which is why I’m with them, instead of holed up in a village somewhere,” he said, referring to the Brotherhood.

“How did you find them?”

Robb chuckled. “They stopped Talisa and me on the road, demanding all of our gold. When I told them that I didn’t have any, they called me a liar and tried to search me. That was when Thoros got tackled by Grey Wind and they let me join.”

Austin allowed a small smile. “Seems Thoros has a bad history with dogs now.”

“Aye,” Robb chuckled. “But how did  _ you _ get here? And how long has Arya been with you?”

“Your father sent me to negotiate with Stannis. The man forced me to remain with him, so I fought in the siege of King’s Landing, got myself knocked unconscious. The Hound of all people saved me. Brotherhood captured us while we were sleeping. Arya just happened to be with them when they caught us.”

“Sounds like you’ve had quite the fun time,” Robb said sarcastically.

Austin shrugged. “Well, it ends now, I’m afraid. I’m taking all of us back to the camp, and you’re going to face your father. Last I heard, they were at Harrenhal, so that’s where we’re headed. We leave at first light tomorrow.”

“What about-”

“Talisa will be fine, it’s not like your father will behead her for treason. Though I don’t know if he will allow you to marry her. You have a duty, and you owe it to your family. And if you try to run again, I swear I’ll follow you through the Seven Hells, knock you unconscious again, and bring you back to your father tied up like a stuck pig,” Austin threatened, his eyes never wavering from Robb’s.

The Prince of Winterfell sighed. “So be it.”

He rose to his feet and walked back into the cave, leaving Austin alone with his thoughts. He shook his head, burying his face in one hand while the other stayed on his hip. “It’s like I’m raising children.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

As Austin saddled his horse, he was forced to listen to the Hound rattle on about his gold. Evidently, the man was serious about not leaving the Brotherhood until he saw every bit of it returned to him. 

The Dayne sighed, turning his head to look at the taller man. He could not take much of the Hound’s complaining today, not since the news of the Frey’s betrayal at Duskendale had reached Hollow Hill. 

“What are you whingeing about, Clegane?” he asked.

“The fuck is whingeing?” the Hound asked, confused.

“Unbelievable,” Austin muttered. “Whingeing is annoyingly complaining you giant halfwit.”

“I’m not complaining you thin excuse of a knight. I just want my gold,” the Hound stated.

Austin chuckled, adjusting the final strap on his horse. “Listen. See these five horses?” Austin asked, gesturing to the animals around him. “There’s one for each of us, and I had them deduct it from your payment. So unless you want to continue losing money, I suggest you leave it and saddle that horse.”

The Hound engaged in a staring match with Austin for a few seconds, each of them testing the other’s will, before the larger man backed off, spouting obscenities under his breath. Austin smirked in amusement, patting his horse’s neck. He scanned their small party, Arya and Robb speaking off to the side, the Hound going off to saddle his, and Robb’s betrothed, Talisa, was struggling to get hers.

Austin strode over to her, gently taking the saddle out of her hands. “Allow me.”

She sheepishly relented, eyes moving down to her feet as she curtsied. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Oh, please, I haven’t been called a lord in some time. Ser Austin if you’re feeling formal. Just Austin if you’re not,” the Dayne said.

Talisa nodded. “Thank you, Ser Austin. Robb has told me many stories of his childhood, you were a prominent figure.”

“Oh?” Austin asked with bland curiosity, looping the buckle underneath the horse. 

Talisa nodded once more. “Yes, he said you were always smiling. He said he always looked up to you and your cousin, Edric, I think his name was.”

“Aye,” Austin said shortly.

As Austin placed the harness around the horse’s head, Talisa took a deep breath, signaling that she meant to continue. “He said you were always trying to live up to your father. I think he’s trying to do the same.”

Austin stopped what he was doing, turning to face her. “Let’s get something straight. I don’t like you. Robb’s father is the most honourable man I’ve ever met, and Robb had the chance to be just like him. Then you came along, and the two of you ride off in the night, hiding away in a cave. I thought things would work themselves out in the end, with some atonement from Robb, but no. I get word this morning that House Frey, the House that Robb was supposed to marry a girl from, has betrayed his father in a battle. Now, you can imagine what anger I’m feeling right now, as his father is just as much of a father to me. To be perfectly clear, I now blame you for the deaths of thousands of Northmen. So let’s skip the pleasantries, because there won’t be any. And don’t talk about my father.”

With that, Austin tightened the last strap on her horse and left Talisa standing next to it, eyes watering at the harsh words from the Dayne. Robb had witnessed the conversation, and now moved to comfort her, the foreign woman falling into his arms and sobbing. Austin walked over o Arya, letting her place her left foot in his hands, and he boosted her onto her horse.

As he turned to head for his own, he spied Beric and Thoros nearby, having emerged from their cavern to see them off. Austin approached them smoothly, reigning his emotions back again and readying himself for a new conversation. 

“Beric, Thoros. Farewell. Try not to die again, eh?” he asked, patting Beric on the shoulder as he shook the Lightning Lord’s hand. 

The former lord nodded with a smile, his one good eye shining brightly. “The Lord of Light has big plans for you, Ser Austin, I can feel it. Try not to die before you can carry them out?”

Austin chuckled and moved along to Thoros. “He’s really become a fanatic, hasn’t he?”

The Red Priest took a swig from his wineskin and laughed. “He’s more religious than I am, and I’m the fucking priest!”

Austin chuckled and shook the man’s hand. “I hope we meet again. I still owe you some payback for setting me on fire.”

“Oh, that was just a bit of bad luck.”

“That was what you said last time,” Austin remembered. Shrugging to himself, he turned and mounted his horse in one smooth motion. Wheeling his horse around, he checked to make sure Robb and Talisa were actually present before waving at the two leaders of the Brotherhood Without Banners. He flicked the reins and sent the animal forward, finally heading back where Austin belonged.

* * *

“My Lady!”

Catelyn’s head snapped up from her seat at the high table. Se Rodrik had just interrupted her reunion with her two sons, Bran and Rickon. “What is it?”

“There’s an army outside our walls. They were unannounced, and they carry no banners. They mean to scale the walls. I’ve organized what few men we have left to stand and fight, but they won’t be enough.”

Catelyn’s expression fell. She looked to Luwin immediately. The old maester rose from his chair in the corner of the room and headed for the aviary. Catelyn pulled Rickon close to her. “Rodrik! Order an evacuation into the Wolfswood using the western gate! And find Hodor! We have to get out of here!”

Rodrik bowed and left the room quickly, passing two young figures on his way out. Jojen and Meera Reed looked at the Starks on the high table with pity, yet determination. While Bran was still seated, they approached him. 

“You  _ must _ come north with us, Brandon Stark. The Three-Eyed Raven awaits beyond the Wall. You’ve seen him calling to you in your dreams, haven’t you?” Jojen asked.

Bran nodded uneasily. Lady Catelyn overheard this and looked down at the two Reeds. “Unbelievable nonsense. This castle is under attack and you two are attempting to convince my son to accompany you beyond the Wall? He’s crippled! He would die in a matter of days up there. I won’t allow it!”

“Mother,” Bran looked up with pleading eyes. “I have to. The Three-Eyed Raven calls to me. I have to answer.”

Catelyn shook her head. “We can discuss this later! Right now, we have to worry about getting out of here alive!”

Just as she finished, Rodrik reappeared in the hall, Hodor in tow. The half giant hoisted Bran in his arms and followed Lady Stark from the hall, her clutching Rickon closely. Luwin emerged from the maester’s tower and joined their procession. Summer and Shaggy Dog saw them leave and darted towards them through the panicking crowd of people. 

Rodrik grabbed a shield off of a nearby rack and trapped it along his shoulders, securing the sword at his side. Luwin, slowed by age, struggled to keep up with the sprinting group. Their goal in sight, the stables came into view. Rodrik immediately began saddling Bran’s horse with his special saddle. Catelyn clambered up on one and placed Rickon in front of her. As soon as they’d strapped Bran in, Rodrik saddled the largest horse, a massive destrier for Hodor. Bran didn’t even know that the halfwit could ride horses, but here they were. 

Moments later, Lady Catelyn led their group out of the western gate, a long column of people beside them. The clanging of swords and yells of battle could be heard from the other side of the castle, telling the story of the brave men who’d stayed behind to cover their escape.

* * *

As Eddard sat at the head of the table, the greatest commanders of his army sitting along either side of it, he dreaded to ask the one thing he’d been avoiding since the battle had ended. “How many?”

“Seven thousand, Your Grace. Nearly half our number,” Ser Barristan replied from his seat at the immediate left of Ned. “We also lost the Lady Maege Mormont, and the Lord Helman Tallhart. Ravens have already been dispatched to their houses.”

The King in the North buried his face in his hands, running them backwards through his hair, mourning both the loss of his men, as well as his loyal vassals. “And how have the Riverlands fared, Ser Brynden?”

“Since Tywin’s departure, we’ve only seen light skirmishing from a few of the Westerlands lords. The only one that has proved to be a real threat is the Mountain,” the Blackfish replied.

Ned nodded. “That’s good. Perhaps we can surround him and kill him, then turn our full efforts towards the capital. I wrote to Stannis. He said that there were no troop movements out of King’s Landing in the time he was across the river. Which means that Tywin was forewarned, likely by the traitor Roose Bolton or perhaps Walder Frey. Regardless, we are now surrounded by enemies. Tywin in the east, the Tyrells to our south, the Freys to the north, and the Westerlands to the west. We cannot fight all of them at once, we haven’t the men. We need more.”

“Your Grace, the only men we have left to call are the levies from the North, but that would cripple us for the winter,” Galbart Glover cautioned.

Ned shook his head. “No, I don’t refer to the levies. We need stronger men than that. Ones who won’t cripple our economy and supply lines. We need the Knights of the Vale.”

A murmur of surprise went around the table. “Your Grace, how do you propose we win them to our side? No doubt the Lannisters have already tried to dig their claws into them,” Lord Halys Hornwood asked.

Ned nodded. “Aye, they have no doubt attempted. But the fact that the Knights of the Vale are not at war with us right now tells me that they want nothing to do with the Lannisters. So we need to send a delegation of our own.”

All heads swiveled to Edric, who leaned against a wall behind Ser Barristan. The Dayne sighed, smiling grimly. “Very well. I’ll negotiate and save the day. Austin isn’t here to steal my glory this time, after all. I’ll need a fast horse and a dozen men.”

“Done,” Ned nodded.

Just as Ned concluded that matter, the door burst open, Ser Beren Tallhart of the Wolfguard striding in. Though the man had just lost an uncle in the fighting, his face was stoic as he passed all the seated lords to place the scroll directly in his king’s hand.

Ned broke the seal and unrolled the slip of paper. His face turned pale as he read the hastily scrawled writing of maester Luwin, detailing the taking of Winterfell and their fleeing. His face turned the same color as his namesake as he placed the paper down on the table. His lords saw his pale face and glanced around at eachother, wondering what could have made their king lose his nerve like that.

“Your Grace?” Lord Edmure asked easily.

Ned looked up, eyes hardening by the second. “Winterfell has been taken. They flew no banners, but I suspect they were Bolton men.”

“Your wife, your children?” Edric asked urgently.

Ned shook his head. “Luwin said they were to flee into the Wolfswood through the western gate, but I know not if they were pursued. I must ride north at once.”

That last statement caused an uproar as Ned began to walk towards the door. The Greatjon stood to block his king’s path, prompting Ser Marlon to free his sword from its scabbard. The room grew deathly quiet at the sound of steel being drawn.

The Greatjon crossed his arms and looked down at his king. “You’re not going anywhere, Your Grace.”

“Get out of my way, Jon,” Ned said coldly.

The Greatjon shook his head. “Aye, they took your castle. Aye, your family was forced to flee. But if you ride back north now, all the ground we’ve gained will be for naught.”

“He’s right,” said the Blackfish.

Edric looked between the two old friends who were now facing off. “Who was with them?”

“Rodrik and Hodor,” Ned said, eyes never leaving the Greatjon. 

Edric slowly strode over to his king, placing one hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re worried about them, but they’re Starks. Just like you. And if that isn’t enough, you have to trust that Rodrik will take care of your family. Where would they go after fleeing Winterfell? Somewhere they could never be touched?”

“Torrhen’s Square, or Last Hearth?” one of the other lords, Robett Glover offered. 

Edric shook his head. “No. Castles can still be sieged. And we have no men up north. They’ll go to the Wall.”

The assembled lords all nodded in agreement, including the Greatjon. “Aye, the Wall. Roose Bolton knows if he attacks the Night’s Watch, every house in the North would shove their swords up his dunghole.”

Ned stroked his beard in thought. “That still leaves the question of how they would get there.”

“Only a fool wouldn’t leave with horses. And even if they don’t have any, Hodor can carry Bran for miles without tiring. They’d make good time, and they’d be safe at the Wall. Jon would make sure of that,” Edric detailed.

Ned sighed loudly, seating himself back at the head of the table. “Seven hells, I can’t believe I’m placing this damned rebellion before my own family.”

“You’re a good king,” Edric commented. “That’s what good kings do.”

Ned scoffed. “A good king would be able to hold his own damned castle.”

“I can get word to my father at Torrhen’s Square, Your Grace,” Ser Beren offered. “He could round up at least a few hundred men at least, if not a thousand, and can retake Winterfell within the fortnight.”

Ned nodded. “Do that. And tell him that the safety of the refugees is paramount.”

Ser Beren bowed and left the room, off to send a raven to his family. When the door closed, Ser Barristan spoke up. “Not to be insensitive, Your Grace, but we need a new course of action.”

The King in the North stood and bent over the table, studying the map of Westeros in front of them. He pointed to the stags south of King’s Landing. “We need word about Stannis’ next move. That will give us an idea of what to expect next. Send a raven and ask him what he means to do. Until then, we wait, and recoup.”

The wooden door burst open once again, revealing Ser Rickard Ryswell, another of the Wolfguard. Ned rolled his eyes. “Seven hells, what is it now?”

“You’d best see for yourself, Your Grace,” said Ser Rickard, bowing out of the doorway and allowing the King in the North to pass him with his entourage of lords. 

They proceeded to the small balcony that had been constructed, overlooking the courtyard. The Lannisters had rebuilt much of harrenhal with wood by using slave labor. Ned was grateful for the restored state of the fortress, but appalled at how it came to be that way. Nevertheless, he approached the railing and looked down into the courtyard. What he saw brought a wide grin to his face. He turned and practically bolted down the stairs. Arriving at the bottom, he jogged towards the five riders that had appeared in the courtyard. 

The one at the head of the column dismounted and removed his helmet, revealing flowing white hair and a pair of violet eyes. Ned wrapped the tall man in a fierce embrace, patting him on the back. “It’s good to have you back, lad.”

Austin returned the hug, wondering if perhaps Ned had some Mormont blood in his veins, what with how hard he was being squeezed. When they parted, Austin patted his king on the shoulder. “I missed you, too, old man.”

The Dayne jerked his head towards the rear of the column. “There are some other people you might be happy to see.”

Ned raised an eyebrow, but followed the Dayne’s gaze. Seeming to notice for the first time the giant direwolf, as well as the other four members of Austin’s troop, Ned practically burst into tears. He knelt down as Arya sprinted for him, nearly knocking him over into the mud. Ned rubbed her back warmly, allowing her to sob into his chest.

“You’re safe now,” he assured.

Arya released the embrace and smiled at him, tears shining in her eyes. Ned looked up at the other three. Seeing the Hound first, he looked up at Austin warily, who shrugged in response. Ned then studied the next, a woman, clearly not Westerosi. And beside her, looking much more rough around the edges than the last time he’d seen him, was Robb.

Ned rose to his feet and approached his son, pulling him into the same grip that he’d held Austin with. He released it much quicker, though, hard eyes telling Robb that there would be a conversation later that he would not much enjoy. He turned and placed his hand on Arya’s back, steering her towards the stairs that led up to the balcony and the lord’s hall. Robb followed, pulling Talisa by her hand.

“I’m afraid we must reconvene at a later time, my lords. I would have words with my children,” Ned said as he passed his commanders. 

Austin nodded to himself, glad to have returned two of his father figure’s children safe and sound. He allowed himself a small smile at the family’s reunion before his eyes rested upon Edric, who was leaning against the rails of the wooden staircase, a wide smile on his face. When Austin made to approach Edric, the Hound stopped him with a hand on the shoulder, flipping the Dayne around to face him.

“You act like a hard man. But inside, you care about family too much. It’ll be your greatest weakness,” he advised.

Austin scoffed, brushing the Clegane’s hand off of his shoulder. “You’re wrong. Family makes you strong. You wouldn’t know that, seeing as how the only family you have did  _ that _ to you,” Austin said, pointing to the right side of the Hound’s face.

The larger man swatted Austin’s hand away, growling in anger. “How did you-”

“It’s obvious, Clegane. Anyone who saw you step in to save Loras Tyrell knew that that duel would have gone to the death if King Robert hadn’t put a stop to it. Clearly you hate your brother more than anyone else, and  _ that _ is the only reason I can see. And you want to lecture me about family,” Austin criticized, turning away from the Hound and leaving him speechless.

Edric met Austin in the middle, the two grasping each other’s forearms in a gesture of respect before pulling themselves into yet another embrace for the day. 

“I knew you weren’t dead,” Edric said confidently. “Ned speculated that you may have been taken prisoner, but we didn’t know for sure. How did you get out of there?”

“Long story. I’ll tell it in there,” Austin nodded towards the hall, implying that they would join Ned and his children. Edric nodded, stepping aside to let his cousin lead the way.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Ser Barristan was waiting for Austin. He nodded to the Dayne. “It’s good to have you back, Lord Commander,” he said, extending his hand for Austin to shake.

Taking it, Austin patted the old knight on the shoulder plate. “Good to be back.”

With that, the cousins walked into the lord’s hall, where Ned was already seated with Robb, Talisa, and Arya. Grey Wind was laying by the fireplace, already fast asleep. As soon as the Daynes had seated themselves, Ned looked around the table. 

“Tell me everything.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Austin watched, arms crossed, as Edric rode from the gates of Harrenhal, off to negotiate with the Vale. He stayed for a few minutes, silently wishing his cousin that he treated like a brother success. As he watched the white hair of Edric fade into the distance, Austin thought more of a topic that had long eaten away at his mind. A thought had been forming the past few weeks in his head, but Austin had not dared to voice it until there were no loose ends in his plan. 

In the end, after deliberation with himself, he elected to bring his idea before Ned. Turning on his heel, he marched up the stairs and back towards the lord’s hall, where Ned was reconvening with his commanders. 

The oak door swung open and Austin closed it behind him, striding past the seated lords to take up a position behind Ned, leaning with his back against the cold stone wall. With their interruption out of the way, the lords returned to their business, wit the Greatjon booming louder than the rest to get his point across.

“The bloody Wall will melt before we accept peace from the Lannisters! We’ve lost one battle and now you want to tuck and run back north?” he accused Ser Edmure.

The Riverlander held his hands up in defense. “I’m simply stating that Ned-”

“That’s _King_ Ned to you,” Austin said coldly from behind his king.

Edmure held Austin’s gaze for a moment before turning back to the Greatjon. “I’m simply stating that _King_ Ned should negotiate a truce with the Lannisters so we may yet all survive this war.”

“They have my sister! You think they’d simply just give her back?” Robb asked from his place to Ned’s right.

“And what do you propose we offer? We have no leverage, Edmure. Not since we lost Jaime and all of our prisoners at Duskendale,” Galbart Glover said. 

Ser Brynden the Blackfish laughed at the embarrassed look his nephew had on his face. “Sometimes I think you should have been born a commoner.” Edmure sat back in his chair to sulk while the other lords chuckled. 

“I will negotiate no peace, Ser Edmure. The Lannisters are responsible for the death of Jory Cassel, King Robert, and all those we have lost in this war already. They have my daughter, and they must pay for their crimes. There will be no truce. If we die because no one comes to our aid, then we die. I refuse to back down when faced with cowards who would rather poison their enemies than fight them like men,” Ned said viciously, the fire shining in his eyes.

All of his lords and knights grasped their wooden cups and banged them on the table repeatedly. “The King in the North,” they said in unison. All except Edmure Tully, whose wounded pride seemed to be too much for him.

Ned stood. “Now, we hold our position and hope that Edric will grace us with good news. Until then, dismissed.”

As the lords filed out of the hall, Austin pushed off of the wall and approached Ned. “Can I speak with you?”

“Always.”

Austin nodded thanks, taking Robb’s vacated seat as Ned fetched himself a glass of water. “I’ve been thinking, and I think Edric and I should leave when he gets back.”

Ned turned to look over his shoulder, pitcher of water frozen in his hand. “And where were you thinking of going? Essos? The Lord Commander’s place is generally beside his king. I need you, Austin.”

Austin let out a bark of laughter. “Ha! I’m no coward as you know. No, you mistake my meaning. I think Edric and I should depart for Starfall. I have a score to settle and it’s long overdue.”

“I see,” Ned said stiffly. 

Austin studied the man he’d come to know as a father. He was clearly hurt by Austin’s words, as if his current problems were not as important as Austin’s personal revenge. Ned took a long draught from his water and slammed the cup back down.

“That still leaves me with the same problem. While you’re off chasing revenge and personal glory, I’m fighting a war here. With you and Edric leaving, I’d be losing two of my best men.”

Austin nodded. “Aye, you would. But only for a short time.”

“What do you mean?” Ned asked, an eyebrow raised.

Austin smirked. “Just think about it. The Vale enters the war on your side, not leaving you nearly as open as you think. Edric and I travel south to Starfall. I challenge Gerold to a duel. I win, and we get Starfall back.”

“As well as the men of House Dayne,” Ned realized.

“Precisely,” Austin nodded. “You’d lose two men for a couple of months only to gain four thousand!”

Ned placed his fingers on his chin, stroking his beard. “I have to admit, it’s an intriguing thought. But it all rests on the Vale joining this damned war.”

“You doubt Edric?”

Ned shook his head. “Not at all. I doubt the sanity of the woman who rules in the Eyrie. Lysa was always a fragile woman, but I fear the death of Jon Arryn has driven her to madness.”

“That seems to be putting it mildly. I’ve heard rumors that she still suckles her son at her teat,” Austin revealed.

Ned shook his head in disappointment. “The boy is older than Rickon. I pray to the gods that Edric can get through to her.”

* * *

The snap of a twig made Bran’s head snap upwards. He’d been dozing off on top of his horse, but found out that it was only Hodor’s massive destrier. The horse’s metal-shod hooves were not exactly meant for stealth. Jojen and Meera rode ahead of Bran, and Summer trotted alongside, paws barely making a sound due to its natural hunter’s gait.

Bran felt horrible about doing this, but he had no other choice. His mother would never let him run off north of the Wall, but he knew he needed to go. If defying her meant that he could, then so be it. The four had snuck out of the camp at night, a difficult task because of Hodor. Nevertheless, they’d made it onto the road somehow, and were headed north. 

The summer snows were beginning to grow heavier, the flakes coming down and coating their hair and shoulders with white powder as they trudged along the road. The sun was just creeping up over the horizon when they stopped to rest. 

Jojen, sensing Bran’s distress, knelt in front of the boy after Hodor placed him against a tree. “We didn’t have a choice, Bran. Your mother would never have allowed us to leave.”

Bran nodded solemnly. “I know. I just don’t like leaving her like this. Rickon either.”

“I understand. We left our father alone back at Greywater Watch.”

Bran looked over to Hodor and Meera, who were huddled around the small fire they’d made. “Where are we headed?” he asked.

“The Nightfort,” Jojen said. “There’s an old passage that will take us to the other side of the Wall, I’ve seen it in my dreams.”

“What else have you seen?” Bran asked.

Jojen sat down cross-legged to stare at Bran. “I’ve seen a shadowy figure. I don’t know if he is friend or foe, but we will meet him at the Nightfort.”

That was not exactly comforting to Bran. The Nightfort had a reputation of being a haunted ruin. Add in shadowy figures from Jojen’s visions, and terror began to grip his heart and mind. Summer seemed to sense this, for the massive direwolf rose from his position near the fire to rub against Bran, his thick fur keeping the Stark warm.

Bran rubbed Summer behind the ears, a smile creeping onto his face. “Well, whoever this shadow man is, Summer can take him.”

* * *

“Austin!” a voice called outside of his room, with an accompanying bang on the wooden door.

The Dayne rolled out of bed with a groan, pulling a tunic over his head and belting on his sword and dagger. He opened the door to find Robb standing there, panting. “Ned’s putting the Hound on trial! I know you owe him, so I came to tell you. He means to execute him!”

Austin pushed past his cousin and bolted outside, where the Hound was kneeling on a wooden platform. Ned had Ice out and was no doubt saying the words that an honourable man was obligated to say before he took a man’s life. Just as he adjusted his grip on Ice and began to bring it back, Austin reached the platform.

“Wait!” he yelled, leaping upwards to get between the Hound and Ned.

Ned looked visibly confused. “What for, Austin? He deserves justice.”

“He’s already made up for his past actions.”

Ned’s brow furrowed. “He slaughtered our men in the Red Keep if you remember correctly.”

“Aye,” Austin nodded. “I remember. I also remember him dragging my unconscious body off of a battlefield and riding out of the gates at my side.”

“One good deed does not recuse a man of a lifetime of crimes, Austin.”

“Though it seems enough to condemn him,” the Hound growled.

Ned nodded. “Aye.”

Austin stepped further between the pair, blocking Ned’s view entirely. “He saved my life. He didn’t have to. I would be rotting in a Black Cell or worse right now if it weren’t for him. He came here of his own free will to fight with us against the Lannisters. He didn’t have to do that, either. He could have stayed with them and been hanged as a traitor instead if all he was to receive here is a chopped head.”

“He butchered _my_ men at that feast, Austin. Not yours. _Mine._ Now get out of the way so that I may serve justice to him.”

Austin sighed. “If that’s how it’s going to be, then I demand a trial by combat for him. And I name myself his champion.”

The assembled crowd of lords and men gasped and murmured to themselves. The King in the North had eyes as wide as saucers as he stared at his adoptive son. Even the Hound looked surprised, and he never had any other facial expressions except anger.

“What?” Ned asked.

Austin’s eyes never wavered. “You heard me.”

Ned bowed his head, motioning to Theon behind him, who was bearing the scabbard for Ice. Ned sheathed the sword and turned his back to Austin. “Very well. I clear Sandor Clegane of all charges.”

Austin nodded his thanks, watching his father figure sulk away. Austin knew he’d hurt Ned deeply by siding against him, but he had to. The Hound had oddly grown to become a friend over these past few weeks. Turning, he drew his sword and cut the bonds of said Clegane, hoisting the larger man to his feet. 

“The hell you doing?” the Hound asked gruffly.

“I believe thanks is the word you’re looking for, Clegane.”

The Hound scoffed. “If they wanted to kill me, then I would have let them. I have nowhere else to go but here.”

Austin smirked. “And how would you kill your brother without a head?” he asked with a knowing wink before he turned away and retreated to his room to gain some more rest, leaving the Hound with a dumb look plastered on his face. What neither of them noticed, though, was the young Stark girl observing them from the shadows.

* * *

“My lady!” Ser Rodrik snapped, waking Catelyn from her slumber. The northern knight’s head was sticking into the flaps of her tent. 

She rubbed her eyes lazily, trying not to wake Rickon or Shaggy Dog. “What is it, Rodrik?”

“It’s Bran. He’s run off with the Reed children and Hodor.”

“What?!” Catelyn exclaimed, shooting to her feet. She grabbed her cloak and hastily fastened it around her shoulders, following Rodrik out of the tent. “How long have they been gone?”

First light was beginning to creep over the trees hen Rodrik turned to answer her. “Possibly since sunset. I’ve put together a scouting party, but I wanted to wake you and inform you first.”

Catelyn shook her head. “We can’t afford to send any men away from here. We need all of them to protect the people. No, I will go myself. If I’m not back in two days, then you may send men after me.”

Catelyn moved for the stables, but Rodrik blocked her path. “Allow me to accompany you at least, my lady. Being this close to the Wolfswood isn’t safe for a lady alone.”

Catelyn nodded reluctantly. “Alright, Rodrik. Tell your men to continue on to Torrhen’s Square, and have them watch over Rickon, he can get into trouble when left on his own.”

Rodrik nodded and barked orders to a few men behind him before saddling two horses. He helped Lady Stark into her saddle before climbing up himself and flicking the reins, trotting out of the camp.

“Any idea which way they may have gone, my lady?”

Catelyn’s eyes watered with worry. “They mentioned something about going beyond the Wall. Oh, gods. What if we can’t find them, Rodrik? I can’t bear to think of my son beyond the Wall by himself.”

“The Kingsroad is the only safe road to take north, my lady. If we follow it, we’ll catch them in a day or so,” the old knight reassured.

Catelyn nodded, thankful for the steadfast loyalty of Rodrik. The old knight was a great friend to her husband, and she’d grown fond of him over the years. “Thank you, Rodrik.”

* * *

There wasn’t much room to move around within the confines of Harrenhal, Austin found. When he wasn’t on duty guarding the King in the North, he found himself wishing to stroll outside the walls. His mind made up, he moved to the stables, where he knew an old friend would be waiting. Holding a large slab of beef behind his back, Austin walked to the last stall and knelt in the threshold, knowing not to come any closer until the animal got used to his scent. 

Tossing the slab of beef on the ground in front of him, Austin watched as the large mass of brown fur approached. Using its clawed paws to hold the meat down, it ripped the slab to pieces with its powerful jaws before turning its gaze upon Austin. 

The Dayne stayed in his crouched position as the bear approached, wet nose running along his head, acclamating to Austin’s presence again. Even as he watched, the bear’s hard eyes softened and he nudged Austin with his forehead, knocking the knight to the straw-covered ground.

Chuckling, Austin climbed to his feet and rubbed the bear behind the ears. “It’s good to see you again, old friend,” he told Ingavar.

The bear huffed in agreement. Austin knelt down once again, looking into the bear’s right eye. “This castle is too stuffy for me, what say you and me get out of here for a while?”

Ingavar seemed to give his assent with his eyes, and Austin grinned. “I thought so, come on.”

Austin let the bear follow him out of the stable before he moved to Ingavar’s side and swung his leg onto the bear’s back. As Ingavar lumbered forward, Austin had to adjust his balance to riding on the bear again, as it was much different than riding a horse. All he felt beneath him was pure muscle and thick fur as opposed to the hard leather of a saddle. 

The guardsmen stared in awe as the pair passed through the gates, headed for the small foothills to the west. Austin had missed days like these from his time in the Wolfswood. Just the two of them, spending all day hunting and foraging to survive.

The days of this war had taken a toll on Austin’s moods. He was no longer the cheery lad he’d once been, with a infectious smile. He was no longer the boy who would play with little Robb and Jon in the training yards. He’d grown quiet over the years, only speaking when his point needed to be heard, which unfortunately, was very often these days.

As Ingavar loped along, he fantasized about returning to the woods after all of this business was concluded. But he forced himself to push those thought to the back of his head, because there was still so much to do. They had a war to win, a cousin to depose, and a castle to retake. There would be no time for relaxation as long as these matter were left unsettled. He was beginning to understand the meaning behind ‘the North remembers.’ 

All these years, and he’d never forgotten the revenge that he had yet to claim. In fact, it was beginning to knaw at his mind, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. As soon as Edric returned, he vowed, they would ride for Starfall.

As these thoughts ran through his head, Ingavar looked back at him, reassuring him with those large eyes, almost as if he were communicating with his mind. Austin smiled and patted the bear’s side. 

“Thanks, pal.”

* * *

As the gates opened before him, sand swirling around, the horseman pulled back on the reins, bringing his horse to a halt. He practically leapt off of its back and walked quickly for the castle hall. He handed the scroll in his hands off to the captain of the guard, taking his leave to the barracks to get some well-earned food and rest.

The captain, a tall man by the name of Brogan, pushed the door to the hall open with his right hand. Seated in the dark hall alone, in a pale white marble chair at the far end of the room, was a man shrouded in darkness. 

His shoulder-length white hair had a streak of black running through it, down the right side of his face. His purple eyes were not the bright violet that one would expect, but rather a darker shade, nearly black. He wore a mail shirt with a purple overcoat of the same color as his eyes. Across his knees lay a longsword whiter than his hair that illuminated his face with a pale light. The pommel was emblazoned with a once golden sun that had been painted black.

The guard bowed when he approached. “Ser Gerold. I have news from a rider.”

Gerold took the scroll and unrolled it, using the light of the sword in his lap to read it. When he finished, he looked up from it with a savage smile. “So, my cousins live after all. Have they forgotten me?” 

Brogan was a large man with broad shoulders and a scruffy beard. His hard eyes had crinkles around them from age, and his brown hair was tied back in a pony tail. He’d killed dozens of men in his life, and he’d even fought with Prince Lewyn at the Trident. But nothing in the world scared him more than the man sitting before him, who seemed to be having a verbal conversation with himself.

“My lord,” he began with a shaky voice. “They say that Ser Austin is a great warrior. They say he rides into battle on the back of a giant bear. They say he’s twice the swordsman his father was. And Lord Edric-”

“ _Lord_ Edric?” Gerold asked, the venom dripping from his words.

Brogan cleared his throat. “They say Edric has become an accomplished diplomat and swordsman himself.”

  
Gerold scoffed. “They’re nothing more than Ned Stark’s lackeys, the both of them. They’re fools. That fool Austin tries to emulate his father when _I_ have the sword he so greatly covets. And Edric, he’s no more than a mere child. They will foolishly seek me out, and when they do, I’ll kill the both of them with Dawn, ending their pathetic lives with irony. For I am Darkstar. No one can defeat me.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

Edric had never seen so many rocks in his life. They were strewn throughout the Vale like waves in the ocean. Some looked as if they were leading somewhere. When Edric and his two companions, Olyvar Frey and Lucas Blackwood, had ridden through the Bloody Gate, surrounded by sheer cliff on all sides but for the stone fortifications in front of them and the road behind, he began to realize why the Vale had never been invaded. Its natural defenses were fearsome, and when you add the Knights of the Vale into the mix, it was a recipe for disaster to any foe that dared march on their lands.

As impressive as the Bloody Gate had been, the Eyrie far exceeded it. The climb up had been hard. Forced to abandon their horses as the foot of the mountain, they rode special mules, bred for just that purpose by a young lass named Mya Stone. From a distance, Edric could see the smooth stone fortifications that had garnered the impregnable moniker of the Eyrie. 

When the hall doors were opened to them, the inner beauty of the chamber almost took the Dayne’s breath away. What kept it in his chest, though, was the sight of who sat on the throne of Arryn. The white chair, shaped like a tree, branches stretching towards the ceiling, sat behind the infamous Moon Door. Sitting in it was a thin man, small in stature, but whose face bore an unmistakable confident smirk. This was clearly not Lysa Arryn.

Edric glanced back to his two companions, both of whom shrugged. Turning back, he nodded to the man atop the seat. “Forgive me, I was expecting Lady Lysa Arryn.”

The man rose to his feet and smoothly stepped down to approach the three envoys. “My late wife,” he said with a low voice. “She fell through the Moon Door in one of her fits of madness.”

“Forgive me, lord, but I do not believe we have met,” Edric said uneasily, not buying a word of what he was selling. 

The shrewd man bowed lightly. “Lord Petyr Baelish. And you are Lord Edric Dayne. Your reputation of a diplomat precedes you.”

“Lord Baelish. I was not aware that Lady Arryn had wed, much less to the King’s Master of Coin.”

“ _ Former _ Master of Coin, I’m afraid. You see, this was arranged for me by Lord Tywin some time ago, but I have since ceased all communication with the crown,” Baelish explained, spreading his hands.

Edric smirked. “I suppose he thought you would bring the Vale into play against the North.”

“That he did. But I seem to have a soft spot for the Northerners.”

“Is that so?”

“Not really,” Baelish admitted. “I simply couldn’t bring myself to attack the sister and brother-in-law of my wife. And now I am Lord Protector of the Vale until young Robyn Arryn comes of age.”

“How convenient for you,” Edric observed. 

Baelish gave a half smile for a few moments at the comment from the Dayne. “Why have you come here, Lord Edric? The only reason I can possibly come up with for Ned STark sending his best diplomat to the Vale is he wants an alliance.”

Edric nodded. “Indeed. He was hoping to appeal to the familial ties between his wife and the Lady Arryn, though that no longer seems possible.”

“So it seems,” Baelish agreed. “But things are not always as they appear. I trust your companions will be satisfied with the rooms we have prepared for them. While they are escorted, I will speak with you further, Lord Dayne.”

“Just Edric.”

“Very well, Edric. In light of the Lannister forces’ recent victory at Duskendale, why would I commit to a cause that has been backed into a corner?”

Edric smirked. “I hear that the Lady Catelyn is reason enough.”

Baelish’s posture stiffened. He turned his back to Edric and began to pace around the Moon Door. “Your cousin no doubt informed you of this, did he? No matter. It’s true that Cat and I were fostered together. I once attempted to duel a man for her hand. I lost that fight, left with only a token of his esteem from navel to collarbone. Why should she love a man who can’t defend her honour? It seems foolish to have pursued her for all these years to anyone else, but she is a woman worth fighting for, I’m sure the King in the North will agree.”

“What is your point, Lord Baelish?” Edric asked, impatiently.

Baelish halted, turning back to face Edric. “Love is as good a reason to fight for a cause as any, wouldn’t you agree? I would argue it bests vengeance. Perhaps love will win you the Vale, and perhaps not.”

With that, the acting Lord of the Vale signaled to one of the guards behind Edric, and the man approached. “He will show you to your quarters. I hope you enjoy your stay at the Eyrie, Edric Dayne.”

Edric was left with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he ascended the stairs into the upper halls, leaving the sinister figure of Littlefinger staring up at him from the Moon Door.

* * *

The men of the North seemed anxious. It had been weeks, and the Northern army hadn’t moved. The only break in routine happened whenever a group of Riverlanders would march into camp from their various garrisons in the west. Ned seemed to be pulling out all the stops, betting it all on one final offensive. 

The restlessness could be felt in the air as Austin strode through the courtyard of Harrenhal, Ingavar at his side. The Hound joined them just before they passed through the gate, only grunting when Austin gave him a look of surprise. Smirking at the Clegane, Austin continued to lead the way on what had become he and Ingavar’s usual walking route. It took longer and longer each time to leave the camp because of the increasing numbers of Riverlanders.

Austin had become somewhat of a celebrity as of late. Naturally, the word of his Trial by Seven had gone around long ago, but the fact that he survived the Battle of the Blackwater, found Robb Stark, and brought the Hound in had pushed his fame over the edge. Now, men of the North and the Riverlands would line up on either side of the muddy path through camp just to shout greetings and praises his way. Some even dared to run their hand along Ingavar’s back, receiving growls and bared teeth in response. Though Ingavar was only playing, those men didn’t know that.

Several minutes into their walk, the Hound scoffed. Austin looked at him quizzically. “I don’t think these men realize who they’re cheering for.”

“What do you mean by that, Clegane?”

“I saw you during the Blackwater. You may act like you hate war, but it’s where you feel most alive. You slaughter men and relish every minute of it.”

Austin dropped his head. “You’re wrong. In my youth I courted war. When I stormed the breach at Pyke and slew my first man, I’d never been more horrified. Why else do you think I retreated into the wilderness?”

“That may be what you tell everyone else, and they may believe you. But just like you, I’m a killer. It takes one to know one, and I think you’re full of horse shit,” the Hound grunted.

“How’s that?” Austin demanded.

The Hound turned his head to look at him, one droopy eyebrow bringing out the intensity in his eyes. “You ran into the wilderness because you loved killing, and that scared you.”

Austin turned away from the larger man, continuing his walk. The three of them were now far out of the camp, well into the rolling hills that surrounded the castle. Austin led them to the ledge where he and Ingavar would stop to stare off into the horizon. He seated himself in front of a large rock, resting his back against it as the Hound copied his actions.

Austin rested his hand on the back of Ingavar’s head, lightly rubbing the bear’s ears with his fingertips. Turning his head towards the horizon, he saw Harrenhal to the right, and a sloping plain to the left, that he knew led to the Trident. He’d passed this way with Bronn and Edric when Starfall had first been taken. That brought back old memories of the sellsword and his unorthodox ways of fighting, as well as his advice which at the time had seemed like nonsense, but Austin now understood far more of it than he would have anticipated.

He allowed his mind to wander back to those times, when things were simpler, but the pain was still fresh.

* * *

_ “If you fight like a highborn lad, you’ll never live as long. Stop being intimidated by someone bigger than you, size isn’t everything. You have to do what your enemy thinks you won’t do,” Bronn lectured, smacking Austin on the side of the head. “As soon as your enemy figures you out, you’re a dead man.” _

_ “You’re a real dangerous man, aren’t you? Beating up children,” Austin muttered.  _

_ “Aye, I’m a dangerous man. The world’s full of dangerous men. When you fight a man, if you’re not more dangerous than he is, you die.” _

_ “So teach me to be a killer like you,” Austin pleaded. _

_ Bronn shook his head. “You don’t want that, boy. I’m teaching you all you need to know to stay alive. Once a man kills another man for the first time, he develops a taste for it. Anyone tells you any different, they’re a fucking liar.” _

_ Training with Bronn was always something that Austin walked away from with bruises by the dozen. Edric would watch from beside the fire, but the boy was far too young to understand much of it.  _

_ Their most recent bout had ended with Bronn kicking Austin in the back of the knee and pressing the wooden stave to the back of his neck, implying that Austin had just been beheaded. The young Dayne was growing increasingly frustrated, especially with his younger cousin laughing loudly whenever he was defeated.  _

_ Austin took a deep breath and faced down his taller, more experienced opponent. Bronn stared right back, but his expression broke when he smiled and winked before bending down to grab a handful of dirt and fling it into Austin’s eyes. The young Dayne dropped the wooden stave they’d been practicing with, fingers furiously rubbing at his eyes to rid them of the dirt. Seconds later, he felt a sharp rap on his left shoulder. As soon as he cleared the dirt from his eyes, he opened them to see Bronn standing in front of him, wooden stave resting on his right shoulder.  _

_ “Dead,” the sellsword stated. _

_ “That’s not fair!” Austin protested. _

_ Bronn sighed. “What have I been telling you this whole time, lad? If you fight fair, you die. That’s the way the world works, and that’s the way that war works. You think everyone at the Trident waited for their opponent to turn around and face them before they stabbed them? No, men got stabbed in the back just as much as men got kicked between the legs.” _

_ “So what do I do about it?” Austin asked. _

_ “You have to always see what your enemy is doing. Keep your head moving from side to side, and never stand in one place too long. If your feet are still, you’re dead.” _

_ “When am I  _ not _ dead?”  _

_ “When you’re dead,” Bronn said seriously. _

* * *

“You’re right,” Austin sighed.

The Hound, who’d dozed off, opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the Dayne. “What?”

“I said you’re right. I left because I liked the killing, and it scared me. I could have stayed, wallowing in my self-pity, but I didn’t want my cousin or Ned’s children to see me like that. I wanted them to remember me how I was.”

The Hound nodded silently, laying his head back against the rock. “I used to be a happy child.”

“What happened?”

“I think you know,” the Clegane said. “You ever have a brother, Dayne?”

Austin nodded. “Edric, aye. He’s the only family I’ve got left, and we’ll never leave each other behind.”

“Family. Nothing more than damned blood ties. Truth is, your own family can be just as worse as the enemy you’re fighting. I should know. The only thing my brother ever gave me was this,” the Hound pointed to the right side of his face. 

Austin’s usually hard, violet eyes softened. “Why?”

“He thought I stole one of his toys, a wooden knight. I didn’t steal it, I was just playing with it. He never said a word, just grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and pressed me to the fire. Held me there for what felt like hours. When he finally let me go, the pain was bad, the smell was worse. But the worst thing was that it was my brother who did it. My father protected him, told everyone my bedding caught fire. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be that alone?” the Clegane asked.

Austin faced forward again after listening to the Hound’s story. “I’ve never been that alone, but I know what it’s like to have family betray you. My mother died in childbirth, and my father joined the Kingsguard before I was but a year old. I met him one time, in this very castle, at the Great Tournament. It was my aunt who raised me and Edric. One day, an army approaches Starfall. It’s my cousin, Gerold, of the branch house. He was jealous of the main house, and coveted Dawn, our ancestral family sword. It can only be bestowed to those who are worthy, and he believed himself to be so. When he attacked, my aunt sent Edric and I out of the side gate with two horses, telling us to head for Winterfell. The last time I saw her, she’d flung herself from the Palestone Sword, the tallest tower in the castle. I’ve hated Gerold ever since, and Edric and I have sworn to retake our home.”

“Hate. Hate is what I understand. It keeps a man going,” the Clegane nodded.

“Is that why you got so good at fighting? Hate for your brother?”

The Hound nodded. “Aye. Figured that when I got older, I could repay my brother, but he just kept growing. Took me fifteen years to come even close to him, but he’s still a foot taller than me. Lot stronger, too.”

“Someone once told me that size isn’t everything. If you help me get revenge on my cousin, I swear I’ll return the favor when the time comes,” Austin offered, eyes never leaving the beautiful landscape, now illuminated by the orange sunset.

“As long as I don’t have to kneel to you.”

Austin shook his head. “My cousin is the lord. I don’t want the title, never have. All I want is revenge, and to become the Sword of the Morning, following my father’s footsteps.”

“Seven hells, Dayne. That means I’ll have to look at your ugly arse for the rest of my fucking life, doesn’t it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Austin shot back angrily.

“It means you look like a dusty mop with your white hair and skinny arse.”

“Just because you’re fucking massive doesn’t mean I’m skinny. Besides, at least my face doesn’t look like a half-cooked mutton chop.”

Austin thought the Hound would’ve drawn steel at that, but he simply chuckled. Austin gradually copied the action, the two sharing a laugh at the other’s expense. “So what do you like to be called?”

“What?” the Clegane asked gruffly.

“I don’t imagine that you like being called the Hound, or Dog. So what do I call you?”

The larger man leaned back against the rock once again, crossing his arms on hic chest. After a few seconds of internal deliberation, he looked to Austin. “No doubt you know my name is Sandor. You call me that in front of anyone but that fucking bear and I’ll chop your hands off.”

Austin laughed. “Sandor it is.”

* * *

Catelyn was about tired of riding. She’d contemplated on more than one occasion now the possibility of simply abandoning her son and turning around for the comfort of a castle and a bed. But those thoughts were always fleeting, as a mother’s love would always win over the wants of the body. 

She and Rodrik had been riding hard for nearly a full day now, thoroughly confused as to why they hadn’t caught up to their runaways yet. Just as that thought had run through her head, they rounded a bend in the road, spying a column of riders ahead on the small dirt road. As they neared, Catelyn’s spirits lifted when she spied Hodor bringing up the rear. 

Riding past the column, she came to a halt in front of the lead rider, Jojen Reed. “How dare you,” she began harshly. “You come into my hall as a guest, then have the  _ nerve _ to spirit my crippled son away on a bird chase?”

“Mother! It was my idea!” Bran called from behind Jojen.

Catelyn looked at her son with a stern gaze. “This idea is over. You’re coming back with me, and I’ll hear no more about it.”

“No!” Bran yelled. “I have to do this, mother. The Three-Eyed Raven wants me to find him, and he won’t stop appearing in my dreams until I do. So unless you want me to develop a fear of ravens, I have to go.”

“This is nonsense, Brandon! If your father could see you now-”

“But he cant!” Bran said angrily, tears of anger flowing freely down his face. “He’s fighting a war, and hasn’t written in over a year! He doesn’t care about me!”

“That is  _ not _ true,” Lady Stark said, eyes softening to her distressed son. “Your father loves you very much, but he also loves your sister. He has to get her back before he can come home.”

Bran turned away. “If she wasn’t so helpless, we’d still have a home to go back to.”

“Brandon! Your sister had no control over what has happened! As soon as your father wins her back, he’ll march straight back here and take back our home.”

“I won’t be there,” Bran said defiantly. “I’m going beyond the Wall to meet the Three-Eyed Raven. I’m not crazy, mother. Jojen has seen him, too.”

Catelyn looked down at her horse’s saddle. “I can see that this means a lot to you, Bran. But I can’t let you go off on your own! Even if I were to say yes, you have no one to protect you!”

“My Lady,” Rodrik said quietly. “If the boy cannot be dissuaded, I could accompany him. I’ll treat him as my own and keep him safe until I die myself.”

Catelyn teared up, looking between her son and Rodrik. She flicked the reins and brought her horse even with Bran’s. She reached over and cupped the boy’s face, crying all the while. She leaned over and wrapped her son in a fierce hug. When she released it, she left her hand on his face. 

“You come back to me. Do you understand? Come back to me.”

“Come with us, mother. You could meet the Three-Eyed Raven,” Bran suggested, but Catelyn shook her head.

“I can’t leave Rickon all alone. He’s just a boy, and he’s scared. I have to take care of him,” Catelyn said, smiling at her middle son. She turned her head to look at Rodrik. “You’ll protect him? You swear it?”

Rodrik nodded. “With my life, my lady.”

Catelyn nodded before turning her head back to Bran. “I love you. Words cannot express how deeply. But you must come back to me, or I will never forgive myself.”

Bran smiled, now weeping as well. “I promise, mother.”

Catelyn hugged her son one last time, releasing him and flicking the reins of her horse, never looking back for fear of never being able to leave him.

* * *

Edric had just changed into a new set of robes after the surprisingly warm bath that had been drawn for him. The view from the balcony was astounding, realizing that he was probably at the highest point in Westeros. He could see almost the entirety of the Vale below him. To the right were the mountains, and the Bloody Gate. To his left, he thought he could see the sea in the distance, but perhaps it was just the lateness of the hour.

A sharp rap on his door, followed by the sound of it opening forced him to turn around. Striding back into the room, he saw one of the guards from earlier. The man bowed lightly, his chain mail clinking as he did so.

“Lord Baelish has requested your presence.”

Edric motioned for the man to lead the way, wondering what Littlefinger wanted now. Edric hated to admit things like this, as he was a learned scholar and historian, but he did not know much about the Crown’s former Master of Coin. He knew that Littlefinger was a moniker that had been bestowed upon him, and Edric had heard the rumors surrounding it. 

There were some that said the man had earned that name from the size of what was between his legs. Yet there were other reports that said Littlefinger hailed from the Fingers, and was very small as a child. Edric knew which of the two he’d put his money on.

The guard led him through the upper halls, until they came to a large room with a massive wooden table in the center, covered with a blue cloth that was adorned with the Arryn sigil. Baelish was at the far end of the room, having a conversation with a rather large man that Edric didn’t recognize, but quickly pieced it together from his bronze breastplate.

Several other men were surrounding the pair, but it was clear that the conversation being had was between them and only them. Spying Edric out of the corner of his eye, Baelish excused himself and made his way towards the Dayne. 

“Have you eaten?”

Edric shook his head.

Baelish motioned towards the table. “Come, sit with us. I’ll have some food brought for you, as well as sent to your companions’ rooms.”

Edric nodded curtly, seating himself as far away from Baelish’s seat as possible. The small man stepped out to speak with some servants, and Edric could feel the pairs of eyes directed his way. Turning his head to look, he saw the largest man of the group approaching, flanked by two younger men that had similar features.

“You have the look of a Dayne,” the largest man said simply.

Edric, still seated, nodded to the man. “I am Edric Dayne.”

The large man pulled the chair to Edric’s left out, seating himself with a loud thud from his large frame. “I thought so. I fought in the melee with your cousin at King’s Landing.”

Edric chuckled. “Aye. He told me the story of the massive Bronze Yohn Royce and how he threw men left and right.”

Lord Royce chuckled, a deep rumble due to his massive frame. “Your cousin’s a good fighter. He may be a greater swordsman than his father was someday. The entire Vale was abuzz when the news of his Trial by Seven victory came to our ears. We did not know all of the competitors, only word of Ned Stark and Ser Austin reached out ears.”

“Aye, Austin said that was a proper scrap,” Edric nodded. When Littlefinger reentered, he noticed the look of disdain on Lord Royce’s face. “I take it you aren’t fond of the Lord Protector of the Vale?”

Lord Royce snorted. “That is an understatement, lad. He appears in the Vale, weds Lady Lysa, and within a week, she’s dead. Mark my words, that’s no coincidence. I know why you’re here, Lord Edric. You were sent by Ned Stark to negotiate. I would have joined the war with my men already had Lady Lysa not forbidden it, and her husband after her. I may hate the man, but I am honourable.”

Edric chuckled. “Well, with any luck, I will have persuaded Littlefinger to join us in the war. Ned has always spoken highly of you, Lord Royce. I pray this is not our last meeting.”

With that, Baelish seated himself at the head of the table. He looked down to where Edric was seated with Lord Royce, a wary look on his face. “Tell me, Lord Edric. What are Ned Stark’s terms?”

Edric shared a look with Bronze Yohn before answering. “The King in the North wishes for the Vale to join the war on the side of the North. He feels that the Vale and the North are tied together by honour, seeing as how the leading houses have been so close for years.”

“I am not a member of the ruling house, Lord Edric. So tell me, as Lord Protector of the Vale, why should I commit our military strength to a cause that might not win?” Baelish asked.

Edric knew the man was testing him, but he didn’t wish to make an enemy of Littlefinger. “I believe that I have given you reason enough, my lord. Both now and at our previous meeting. I see no reason why our two peoples cannot cooperate to bring an end to the Lannisters’ tyranny.”

Baelish smirked. “You are well spoken for someone so young, Lord Edric. How many years have you seen?”

“Twenty-two. I was trained to be a lord by the King in the North from a young age,” Edric stated.

Baelish nodded. “Indeed. Ned Stark has taught you well, it seems. You have moved me. The Vale will enter the war on the side of the North.”

The entire table erupted into commotion. Some of the lords crying out against this action, while others, such as Bronze Yohn and his two sons, cheered. Edric allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief, glad that he hadn’t failed his task. It seemed that the tides would once again be shifting in their favor.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

After the Starks’ defeat at the Battle of Duskendale, Stannis had retreated to Storms End. The impregnable fortress would serve as the perfect staging ground for his next assault on Lannister lands. In a raven received only hours earlier, he’d learned that Ned Stark had somehow convinced the Vale to join their side, so Stannis’ men were preparing themselves.

The rightful king of Westeros looked down from the tallest tower at his men in the courtyard, reminded of the time he held this castle for months on end with a garrison of only five hundred men against the full might of the Reach. Why the Tyrells hadn’t stormed the castle, Stannis would never know. All that he did know, was that he survived, and lived on.

That act alone had earned him the reputation of a stalwart commander, unfazed in even the most insurmountable odds. His reputation had furthered when he smashed the Greyjoy fleet during their Rebellion, as well as his part in the island sieges. But in the end, he was always overshadowed by Robert.

Stannis was roused from his thoughts by a knock on the door behind him. Turning back into the room from the balcony, he called, “Come in.”

Ser Davos appeared when the door opened, flanked by the lady Melisandre. The pair bowed before their king, rising with a motion from Stannis. “What is it?”

“The latest reports from our scouts have arrived. It seems that both the Lannister and Tyrell armies have retreated back into King’s Landing. They expect a long siege, I’m sure,” Ser Davos explained.

The lady Melisandre stalked forward, red dress flowing across the stone floor as she moved to Stannis’ side, placing her hands on his arm. “The Lord of Light knows that a long siege is not favorable. He wants to see you crowned, my king. He will see the Iron Throne placed beneath you.”

“Forgive me, my lady, but unless the Lord of Light plans to descend from the heavens and fight the battle himself, I suggest we discuss the matter of our troops,” Davos said.

Stannis extricated himself from Melisandre’s grip before pacing the room. “How many men do they have remaining?”

“Nearly forty thousand combined, Your Grace. As for our allies, Ned Stark still has over eighteen thousand Northmen and Riverlanders, and they say the Vale can muster twenty thousand.”

Stannis crossed his arms, facing away from the pair. “Those odds would make a siege damn near impossible.”

“Aye, they would. We’re waiting for the latest Northern plans to arrive so we can understand what Ned Stark wants to do.”

Stannis nodded. “Very well. I’ve waited this long for my throne, what’s another month?”

* * *

It certainly felt good to be back among friends, Edric had to admit. He’d arrived with the troops of the Vale earlier that day, the already large camp only expanding around Harrenhal. Bronze Yohn Royce had been appointed the leader of the Vale’s forces, for Littlefinger wouldn’t leave the Eyrie. Nestor Royce had stayed behind with five hundred men to hold the Bloody Gate should it be attacked. 

Ned had embraced the massive Valesman with a smile on his face, for the two were old acquaintances, if not friends. But the fiercest hug was reserved for Edric, as Ned thanked the Dayne for his efforts and unbridled talent for diplomacy.

After a brief reunion with Austin, the older Dayne pulled aside his younger cousin. “I’ve had an idea since you’ve been away. Ned has already agreed to it, but I’ll need your acceptance, because this doesn’t work without you.”

Edric raised an eyebrow. “You’ve piqued my interest. But how does  _ he _ fit into this?” the Dayne asked, motioning with his head towards the massive Clegane flanking Austin.

Austin looked over his shoulder at the larger man before returning to Edric. “He and I have an agreement, but nevermind that, Edric. It’s time.”

Those two words had never brought such joy to one person as they had to Edric. So many long years he’d waited to hear them, he’d almost forgotten why they were important. This war had distracted him from his vengeance, but now that he was reminded, it burned with renewed fire in his gut. A savage grin unfit for a diplomat crept onto the younger cousin’s face.

“It’s time?”

Austin nodded, face as grim and stony as ever. “Aye. I’m leaving tomorrow. Without you, the plan falls apart.”

“How?”

“Say I beat Gerold,” Austin began. “Are they going to follow the man that jut killed their lord? I’m not even the rightful lord.”

“You’re the son of Arthur Dayne. They’ll follow you regardless of who you kill,” Edric argued.

Austin shook his head. “I don’t think so. Remember, all of our old loyal men are dead. The ones left are from the branch house. I can’t just walk in and challenge their lord to single combat without a proper reason, I’ll be cut to pieces by the entire garrison.”

“So before we do this, what happens after? We can’t just abandon Ned.”

“Once we have control of the Dayne army, we take them north and besiege Highgarden. That’ll draw the Tyrell army out of King’s Landing, leaving it open to a combined siege from the Vale, the North, the Riverlands, and the Stormlands,” Austin explained.

Edric smirked. “I may have a head for politics, but you’re one hell of a strategist.”

“For fuck’s sake, enough with the compliments. The pair of you are so boring, I have half a mind to kill the both of you and walk out of this camp,” the Hound complained from behind them.

Austin turned a deadly gaze back towards the Clegane. “Don’t make me say it in front of him. Remember our agreement? No one but the bear? Maybe I’ll make an exception for Edric, huh?”

The Hound rolled his eyes. “Wish I’d have never gone on that bloody walk.”

Austin chuckled, turning back to a very confused Edric. “Did I miss something, or have the two of you always been best friends?”

“He wishes,” Austin remarked. “Anyways, are you in?”

“Aye, let’s do it. But if we all die, I’m climbing through all seven hells to bash your face in.”

Austin grasped his cousin’s forearm in a strong grip, both determined to carry out the task before them. “Deal.”

* * *

The Wall had been in sight for nearly a week now, never seeming to grow any closer until this past afternoon, when they’d covered what seemed like an impossible amount of ground. Bran knew this was simply because of the way that distance was judged by the eyes, but that didn;t make it any less off-putting. 

Ahead of their group, past a few small hills, the ruins of a castle had come into view. Meera had volunteered to search the ruins, Summer accompanying her. The two returned an hour later. “It’s empty.”

“Let’s find a place to sleep,” Jojen said, glancing to the setting sun on his left. 

The ruins were spooky to say the least. What seemed like a hundred years’ worth of dust and cobwebs had built up in the main hall, along with a colony of rats, so their small band was forced into the cellars, camping next to a large well that must have provided water for the garrison all those years ago.

“The Nightfort. Old Nan has a few stories about this place,” Rodrik said, glancing around at the dark stones. The old knight pulled his cloak tighter around him, leaving his left hand resting on the pommel of his sword. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t stay here,” Bran agreed.

Meera scoffed as she carved an apple with her knife. “You’d rather be out there?” she gestured, referring to the icy temperatures and snowy nights they’d endured the past few weeks.

“The stories about this place are horrible ones,” Bran said, eyes meeting Rodrik’s.

“I always quite liked the horrible stories,” Jojen said from his place by the fire.

Bran nodded. “So did I. Once. Have you ever heard about the Rat Cook?”

“No,” Meera said. “Who’s he?”

Rodrik’s expression only hardened, the superstitious northman’s eyes flitting about between every shadow that danced on the wall from the fire, as if he were expecting something to leap out at any moment.

“Just a cook in the Night’s Watch,” Bran began. “A king and his son visited here once. The cook killed the king’s son and baked him into a pie with carrots, onions, potatoes, and bacon. Then he served the king his own son. The king liked the taste of his son so much that he asked for a second slice. The gods turned the Rat Cook into a giant, white rat who can only feed off of his own young. He’s been roaming the Nightfort ever since, and no matter what he does, he’s always hungry.”

Meera smiled. “If the gods turned every killer into a giant white-”

“It wasn’t for murder the gods cursed the Rat Cook, or for serving the king’s son in a pie. He killed a guest under his own roof. Even the gods can’t forgive that.”

On that happy note, the group slowly turned in for sleep. Rodrik was the only one left awake, his superstitions rendering him incapable of sleep. He remained awake, watching over their small band until a huff of air emanating from the well grasped his attention. Bran also shot awake, but Rodrik steadied him with a finger to his lips. The old knight slowly rose to his feet, his sword freeing itself from its scabbard with a dull rasp. He took up a position next to the well, as Meera unsheathed her knife and held it at the ready. 

In the corner, Summer began a low, guttural growl at the unidentified person. When a shaggy mop of black hair and white and gray furs stuck out of the well, Rodrik darted forward, grasping the man by the back of his neck and yanking him out of the well. Rodrik pressed the cold metal of his longsword against the man’s throat as he held him on the ground.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

The shaggy mop of hair didn’t answer at first, only staring up with curiosity and awe. “Rodrik?”

“Seven hells, Jon?!”

Rodrik sheathed his sword and hauled Jon to his feet, the bastard brushing himself off with his gloved hands. He looked around the room, eyes confused when he saw Jojen and Meera, then brightening when he saw Hodor, then turning angry when he saw the small boy sitting on a box next to the half giant. 

“Bran? What in seven-”

“Jon, calm down!” Bran called. 

“Why are you here?” Jon asked.

Rodrik looked him up and down. “We could ask you the same. Shouldn’t you be at Castle Black,  _ wearing _ black?”

Jon placed a hand on the back of his head. “It’s a long story.”

“So is ours,” Jojen said warily.

Jon approached Bran and wrapped the little Stark in a hug. “I thought I’d never see you again. But what are you doing up here? Why aren’t you at Winterfell?”

“You haven’t heard?” Rodrik asked, continuing when Jon shook his head. “Winterfell was taken by the Boltons. We fled the castle.”

“Where’s Rickon?” Jon asked, a worried expression on his face.

“He’s with mother, they’re at Torrhen’s Square,” Bran said.

Jon looked confused once again. “And why aren’t you with them?”

“I have to go north of the Wall,” Bran said. 

Jon blinked, a smile breaking out on his face until he realized that his brother wasn’t joking. “Bran. You can’t. I’ve been north of the Wall. You wouldn’t survive a day, not with the wildlings and the-” Jon cut himself off before he could reveal any more information. 

“You’ve seen the White Walkers and the army of the dead, haven’t you?” Jojen asked.

Jon shook his head. “Not the whole army. But I’ve seen enough.”

“The Night’s Watch can’t stop them. The kings of Westeros can’t stop them,” Jojen said.

Jon looked between Bran and the two Reeds. “And you think you’re going to? Bran, you’re a _crippled_ _boy._ What are you going to do against something like that?”

“We can’t explain it. We’re not even sure ourselves. All we know is that we have to go north and meet the Three-Eyed Raven. Please Jon, take us there. I have to go,” Bran pleaded.

Jon began to pace. “Bran, I’ve only just escaped with my life and you want me to go back?”

“We’re going with or without you,” Bran said defiantly.

Jon looked to Ridrik for help, but the old knight simply nodded to the brother of the Night’s Watch. Jon looked back to Bran. “There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”

Bran shook his head. “I have to.”

Jon sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair. “I’m going to regret this. Alright, I’ll take you where you need to go, even though I’m breaking my oath.”

“You’re not breaking your oath,” Jojen said. “As soon as we’re to our destination, you can return to Castle Black, and no one will have known.”

Jon sighed again. “Damn you Sam for telling me about this passageway.”

* * *

Jaime had never been so thankful to be back in the Red Keep. All those nights spent huddling in the mud, using only his body heat and thin tunic for warmth had nearly broken him. He’d even caught himself begging for death on some of the especially cold nights, the ones where he thought his fingers and toes would turn purple and freeze off. How he’d lasted all those months in captivity, he honestly didn’t know, he was just thankful that his father had bested the Starks and freed him.

He dunked his head in the bucket in front of him, running his hands through his long hair to rid them of moisture before drying himself off with a towel. He turned to survey the room before him. The Lord Commander’s chambers had always seemed small to Jaime, but he didn’t realize how small until he was actually living in them. 

The golden armor of the Kingsguard crowded one corner on a stand, with decent bed on the opposite wall. Across from the mirror, a balcony jutted out of the side of the tower, providing a nice view of the courtyard below. The adjacent chamber was the only noteworthy thing about the whole Whitesword Tower, Jaime thought. 

It contained the Book of Brothers, its pages recording the deeds and great feats of each of the Kingsguard knights that had served since the reign of Aegon I. Jaime knew his pages were light, and the only noteworthy feat that Ser Barristan had entered was his killing of the Mad King, and earning the ‘Kingslayer’ name. He often cursed those who called him Kingslayer. As if that were his only legacy, a broken oath.

His duties as Lord Commander for his nephew Joffrey had commenced without delay, and Jaime had been enjoying a life of luxury these past few weeks, ever since he was freed. But he had a feeling that was all about to change, because his father had summoned him to a special meeting of the Small Council, something Jaime did not desire to attend at all, and never had up until this point.

Finishing the last buckled on his armor, Jaime fastened his sword belt around his waist and stepped out of the room, glancing at the White Book with gritted teeth as he passed. The walk to the Tower of the Hand was long, as the two towers were located on opposite sides of the keep. It only furthered Jaime’s worry, as his mind processed information and worries faster and faster. What did his father want? Was he being sent somewhere? Was he staying here? Was he getting additional responsibilities?

Jaime knew these questions would be answered in time, but that didn’t make him any less anxious. When he arrived at the new Small Council chambers, he found his father already standing at the head of the table, arm resting on his chair. Jaime paused to look at his father, not noticing his brother appear next to him. 

Jaime looked down at Tyrion, and the dwarf simply shrugged with his eyes, not daring to commit the gesture in his father’s presence. Tyrion seated himself at the foot of the table, completely opposite his father, and Jaime took the seat to his immediate right. 

Slowly, the remaining members of the small council filed in one by one. Cersei took the chair closest to her father, with Pycelle to her immediate right. Finally, Varys took the seat between Jaime and Pycelle. 

Tywin looked at each of them for several seconds, seeming to be testing them with his eyes. “Should I have any reason to doubt the loyalty of any of you?” he asked in a low voice that nonetheless commanded great power.

Jaime scoffed, but Tywin eyed him before he could say something clever. “Our former Master of Coin has turned the Vale against us and you’re amused?”

Jaime dropped his head, glancing at Tyrion out of the corner of his eye. His brother took a deep breath. “How do we know that Baelish isn’t playing the Northmen?”

“My little birds have sung that Yohn Royce led the army of the Vale to Harrenhal not a week ago. They are encamped there with the Stark and Tully forces,” Varys stated.

“They cannot be allowed to rest their forces, or they will strike here,” Tywin declared.

Jaime smirked. “But with the Tyrell forces, we could withstand an assault on the walls.”

“Ned Stark is too smart for that. He’ll starve us out until there’s nothing left of us but bones,” Tyrion said, leaning back in his chair.

Tywin nodded. “He will. We may have dealt them a blow, but the Northerners are resilient. They can attack us in our territory any time they want, and we cannot return the favor. Only a fool would march on the North. Winter is Coming. Those aren’t just the Stark words, that’s a fact. If we don’t end this war before winter, they will return with a full army as soon as the snows melt.”

“So what do you propose we do?” Cersei asked. “Attack them in the open field?”

Tywin scoffed. “Of course not. The Knights of the Vale alone could beat us in the field. No, we need to entice them into an assault on the walls.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Tyrion asked.

“By threatening the life of Ned Stark’s daughter.”

“She’s just a child,” Jaime said.

Tywin nodded. “Children have been casualties of war since the dawn of time. When Ned Stark attacks to save the life of his precious daughter, you will attack him from behind,” he directed at Jaime.

“Me?” the Lord Commander asked. “With what men? We’ll need all of them on the walls.”

“Which is why I’m sending you back to Casterly Rock. You will raise an army in the West and march them back here,” Tywin ordered.

Jaime chuckled. “And I suppose you want me to go alone?”

“Not alone. Tyrion has so graciously offered the experience of one of his men. Unfortunately, you’ll have to pay him,” Tywin said.

Jaime smirked. “And when exactly am I leaving?”

“In one hour.”

* * *

Austin and Edric were undergoing feelings of nostalgia at the moment. Back on the road, the same as thirteen years ago, except this time, they were heading in the opposite direction. Austin continuously thought of their times with Bronn, and how the sellsword would react and scoff at some of the things they said, but that was all in the past, and as Austin recently found out, Bronn was on the opposite side of the war. 

The Dayne pushed the thoughts and old memories out of his head, instead focusing on the road ahead. Ingavar huffed along beside them, not enjoying the hot weather of the south. If only the shaggy animal knew what it was like in Dorne. The Red Mountains were as hot as a blacksmith’s forge on some days.

The four of them, Austin, Edric, the Hound, and Ingavar, had departed Harrenhal nearly a week ago. When they were sent off, Ned was quiet. Austin could tell that the King in the North didn’t want them to leave, but he also understood why they had to. Vengeance was something he knew all too well.

“So what happens when we get there again?” Edric asked.

“I challenge Gerold to single combat for possession of the castle. I kill him, and you’re the lord you’ve always meant to be,” Austin said.

The Hound chuckled. “And what happens when he decides not to fight you, and his hundreds of men are sent to kill you?”

“Then we die,” Austin said. “But I seriously doubt he’ll refuse. He wanted the title of Sword of the Morning for himself, now’s his chance to prove it.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

Jon was beginning to feel a sense of foreboding creeping up his spine. It had been over two weeks, and his party hadn’t seen a single living creature aside from birds. The snow stretched as far as the eye could see, and the Wall was but a distant memory behind them. He tightened his gloved fingers around Longclaw’s grip, using the Valyrian steel as both a reassurance and a warning to any who may be watching him. 

The trek through the snow was long, and slow. They were forced to live off of the meagre rations that were piled on the makeshift cart, seeing as how they had to leave the horses behind. Glancing back, Jon worried that wildlings would see the deep ruts in the snow from the cart’s wheels, but he couldn’t afford to sacrifice valuable time covering their tracks.

Whenever they would stop for the night, Jojen and Bran’s eyes would roll back into their heads, and minutes later, they would refocus, and inform Jon that they were getting closer, as well as the directions they would have to take for the next day. That was another worry. Jon was unfamiliar with this territory, especially when he was taking orders from his little brother and his seemingly psychotic friend. He considered committing fratricide, but respect for their father quickly pushed those thoughts out of his head. Besides, Jon liked to consider himself honourable, and that would not be an honourable thing to do.

The only person left who kept him sane was Ser Rodrik. The old knight always had a comforting, secure presence around him, born from years of experience and training. When conversing with his old master at arms, Jon found that Rodrik had sworn to protect Bran for as long as he was alive, in an attempt to ease Lady Stark’s conscience.

Jon also asked for updates on the war, for Robb had just ridden south when Lord Commander Mormont led the expedition north of the Wall. He learned of the failed Siege of King’s Landing, as well as the alliance between Stark, Baratheon, and Tully. He learned of the Battle of Duskendale, which had happened not two months ago. Unfortunately, to Jon, it seemed like the Lannisters had the upper hand. Two failed sieges by the Allied forces, as well as the Tyrell army siding with the Lannisters made for a formidable opponent. 

As they walked, the days grew shorter, and the trees slowly disappeared. Jon recognized the Fist of the First Men off in the distance, but he skirted far west of the rock formation, not wishing any encounter with wildlings or worse.

Another week passed, and the only thing left was wide plains divided by rock canyons. Deep snow always blocked their path, and Jon feared that they would end up walking onto an ice field one of these days. If one of them fell in, they would surely freeze to death, and the others might as well, if they attempted a rescue.

The presence of Summer ate away at Jon as well. He often wondered where Ghost had run off to. The massive wolf had disappeared just before Jon’s encounter with Ygritte, as if the wolf knew that Jon would be captured by the wildlings. He certainly missed his old friend, but he wondered if it in fact would be better for the animal to remain here, in its natural habitat.

Jojen and Meera were certainly an odd pair, defying the traditional ways of thinking. Jojen was weak of the body, and Jon could slowly see his skinny form deteriorating both from lack of nourishment, as well as the hard journey that they had undergone. As they trudged up a small hill, a blizzard whipping flakes into their faces with an icy winter’s bite, Jojen tumbled forward. Meera ran to his side with a worried expression.

“You’re not going to make it,” she said in fear.

Jojen looked up. “We’re already here.”

When Jon crested the hill, his breath caught in his chest. In front of them, framed by bright rays of sunshine, its leaves burning red like a raging fire, was the largest weirwood tree that Jon had ever seen, dwarfing the one in the godswood of Winterfell.

Jon led the way down, slowly skirting around the edge of the rocks, until they came to a narrow pass. Once through, an icy field opened up in front of them, and beyond was the entrance to a cave that was no doubt their destination. 

Jon forged ahead with Summer, intending to scout out the cave entrance. But before he could do so, a commotion from behind grabbed his attention. Jojen had fallen to the snow again, and Meera was desperately screaming while pulling on his arms. Jon turned and began to sprint back, but was halted by snow exploding upwards in front of him. Rising out of the ground were dozens of undead, as if they’d been placed here specifically to guard the entrance.

Jon drew Longclaw as Summer bared teeth. He cut the first one in half at the waist, and to his surprise, it stayed dead. Jon set to work on the other two, desperately trying to fight his way towards Bran, who was helpless. 

One of the wights had leapt onto Hodor’s back, and the half giant was attempting to shrug it off, but was having a tough time of it. Rodrik had drawn his sword and shield, and was aiding Jojen and Meera, but Bran was left defenseless. A wight rose out of the ground in front of him, grasping his leg and raising a dagger. 

Summer dashed past Jon and tackled the undead creature off of Bran as Hodor acquired a second passenger. The halfwit was being bashed in the face repeatedly by a mallet, but suddenly stopped and threw the undead creature off of him, before grabbing the other by its eye sockets and tossing it as well. The half-giant was fighting like he was possessed as Rodrik and Meera defended the fallen Jojen.

Jon was still surrounded, and he was fighting for his life, thankful for the sudden ability to kill wights. Otherwise, he would be dead. As he fought, he stole glances at the others, praying to the gods that they would live to see the end of this. 

When Meera knocked a wight towards Rodrik, he bashed it with his shield, knocking it on the ground next to Jojen. When it didn’t move, he turned around to aid the Reed girl. That was his mistake, as the wight suddenly drew a dagger and thrust it into Jojen’s chest five times before Meera decapitated the creature.

This distracted Jon for a moment, and he was tackled to the ground by three of the wights. He flailed wildly with his hands, attempting to bash their skulls and throw them off of him, but they were persistent. Just when one of them raised a dagger, attempting to repeat the fate of Jojen, they disappeared in a flash of fire. The flames singed Jon’s furs, but he rolled in the snow, dousing them and retrieving Longclaw. 

He ran towards Bran, who’d been knocked out of his cart by one of the fire bombs, scooping his brother up in his arms. Rodrik followed Jon, escorting Bran as Meera dove down at her brother’s die, pressing her hand to his chest. 

At the mouth of the cave, a green woman, seeming to be clad only in vines that hugged her curved form, called out to them. “He is lost! Come with me, or die with him!”

Jon passed Bran to Hodor, taking up a defensive position at the mouth of the cave with Rodrik as the dead continued to rise. The green woman continued to throw firebombs, incinerating the dead wherever they hit. 

Meera’s face was marred by grief. Her dagger fell to Jojen’s throat, slicing it open to end her brother’s misery before she rose to her feet and sprinted for the cave, sobbing with every step. When she passed Jon and Rodrik, the pair turned away just as Jojen’s body was fallen on by nearly a dozen of the undead. The green woman launched one last firebomb at the pile, destroying both the dead, as well as any trace of Jojen.

The group fell back into the cave, and Jon and Rodrik turned around just in time to witness several of the dead enter, only to fall apart at the joints. They looked to the green woman in both confusion as well as relief.

“They cannot follow us. The power that moves them is powerless here.”

“Who are you?” Bran asked, out of breath.

“The First Men called us the Children, but we were born long before them,” the woman said. “Come, he waits for you.”

* * *

“Dead,” Austin said as he smacked the flat of his blade against Edric’s back. 

The younger Dayne groaned as he rolled his shoulders. He and Austin were in the midst of a sparring match that had gone on for some time now. The pair had decided to after they’d stopped to make camp for the night. The Hound simply watched from by the fire, stuffing his face with chicken while sitting on a fallen log. Ingavar had a small pile of bones laying in front of his snout as he snoozed underneath an oak tree.

“You’re never going to beat me if you fight like that,” Austin teased.

“I’m never going to beat you no matter how I fight,” Edric said, wiping his brow and sheathing his sword. “So I think I’ll stick to politics rather than dueling.”

“That’s a good way to get yourself killed,” the Hound said from his seat on the log. “What are you going to do when you get thrown into another war? Lie down and die?”

“I never said that. I simply said I give up dueling. I’m perfectly capable of holding my own during a battle,” he protested.

Austin glanced at the Hound before turning his attention back on his cousin. “And yet you almost died in your first battle.”

“What of the second one, huh? Not a scratch,” Edric stated proudly, lifting his sweat-drenched linen shirt to display his lack of scars.

The Hound scoffed. “You were fighting Lannister men. Those cunts wouldn’t know a soldier if it stabbed them in the chest.”

“And how many battles have you fought in?” Edric demanded from the Clegane.

“Two,” he replied with a mouthful of chicken.

“The Blackwater. What was the first?” Austin asked.

The Hound swallowed and took a dreg out of his waterskin. “The Sack of King’s Landing. Fucking Targaryens had no clue what was happening.”

“Still,” Edric said. “Your experience isn’t that much different from mine.”

“I’m a big fucker and I’m tough to kill, what more experience do I need?”

Austin chuckled. He was beginning to like the Hound, and despite Edric’s demeanor, he knew his cousin was as well. The Clegane offered a simple view of the world, often simplifying complex problems into black and white scenarios.

Edric seated himself across from the Hound as Austin leaned on a tree between them. The Hound reached towards the fire, ripped off a leg, and tossed it to Austin, who caught it with a grateful nod. As he tore into it, the Hound took another bite of his own and glanced up at the Dayne.

“So how did you escape King’s Landing the first time?”

Austin raised an eyebrow. “No one told you?”

The Hound shook his head. “King Robert’s warhammer knocked me unconscious for a week. Closest I’ve ever come to death, but the headache was worse. It was a good hit.”

“I didn’t realize you had any love for King Robert,” Edric chuckled.

The Hound shook his head. “I don’t. But the man was a killer, a damn good one, back in his day. He died too, didn’t he?”

Austin nodded. “Aye. As soon as you were knocked over, Joffrey ordered his soldiers to kill us. We cleared a path out of the Dragonpit, and I freed Ingavar. The two of us held off the Lannister forces while Ned, Robert, and the others escaped. Once we took care of most of the Lannisters, I rode Ingavar down the streets, only to be stopped by a drunken Robert. He stumbled out of a fucking brothel and poured an entire flagon of wine into his helmet,” Austin laughed at the memory. “He said the others were waiting for me as four Lannister knights charged down the street. He told me to go, and that was the last I saw of him. I never saw those knights again, either.”

The Hound smirked. “At least he died doing what he loved: killing.”

“Is that how you want to go?” Edric asked.

The Hound tossed his bare chicken bone into the fire before standing. He turned and stalked into the woods with heavy footsteps. “I need to shit,” he called over his shoulder.

Austin smirked as he finished the last bite of his chicken as well. He shrugged at Edric’s quizzical look before grabbing his saddle and moving towards Ingavar. He tossed the saddle onto the ground next to the bear, his only response being the lazy opening of one eyelid. Austin removed his breastplate and set it next to him before tumbling onto the soft grass, using the hard leather as a pillow. Before he knew it, sleep took him.

* * *

As Jon led the way down the damp tunnel, he noticed that the walls were lined with roots, thousands of them. The entire cave system seemed to be one with the massive weirwood tree that grew above them. Hodor had to carry Bran sideways, as his body couldn’t extend fully without either end hitting the walls. Meera and Rodrik brought up the rear with Summer.

When the tunnel opened up, they were in a large, expansive cavern. It had a floor of damp moss, stone, and roots, and a ceiling of wood. In the center, a cluster of roots had grown straight down to form a sort of chamber, where an old man was visible inside.

In response to a look from Bran, Hodor placed the crippled Stark on the ground. Jon moved to help him, but a hand from Bran stopped him. Jon watched as his younger brother crawled forward until his hands were touching the roots of the tree.

“You’re the Three-Eyed Raven,” Bran said.

The old man turned his head towards Bran. “I’ve been many things. Now, I am what you see.”

Meera spoke up. “My brother led us to you, and now he-”

“He knew what would happen,” the Raven said. “From the moment he left, he knew, and he went anyway.”

“How do you know?” Meera asked in disbelief.

The old man’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve been watching you, all of you. All of your lives, with a thousand eyes and one. 

His eyes scanned the group. He scarcely glanced at Meera and Rodrik. When his eyes met Hodor’s, a slight nod came from the old man. He nodded to Bran, studying the crippled Stark with curiosity. Finally, his gaze rested upon Jon. The intensity was such that Jon was forced to look away, for fear that his eyes would burn out of their skull.

The Raven looked back down to Bran. “And now, you come to me at last, Brandon Stark, though the hour is late.”

“I didn’t want anyone to die for me,” Bran said.

“He died so you could find what you have lost.”

Bran smiled hopefully. “You’re going to help me walk again?”

“You will never walk again,” the Raven shook his head, displaying a large, red mark on his right cheek that stretched down his neck. “But you will fly. Now, settle yourselves.”

The Raven turned his gaze to Jon. “You. Stay.”

Jon nodded to Bran as Hodor picked the little lord up and carried him off after Rodrik, so a small cutout in the cave wall where they would set up their bedding. Jon adjusted his sword belt and stepped towards the Raven. 

“What do you want with me?” he asked.

The Raven smirked. “What do you want for yourself? A boy who joins the Night’s Watch because he feels he has no place in the world. What is it you truly desire?”

“I want to return to the Wall and-”

“You cannot lie to me. I have seen your whole life and then some. What you truly want is to be accepted, isn’t it? You feel as though Lady Stark forced you out of your home, effectively exiling you to the Wall.”

Jon’s eyes widened. “How did you-”

“As I said, I have seen your life. Not with ordinary eyes, no. The sight. Jojen told you of its nature during your travels,” the Raven said.

Jon’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Who are you?”

“I once was many things.”

“You said that already. What were those things?”

“I was once a bastard, much like you, vying for my father’s approval. I served as Hand of the King, put down rebellions by pretenders. I was a lover, a warrior, and a spy. I was a Lord Commander, and I wielded a Valyrian sword, like you, though I preferred a weirwood bow,” the old man stated.

That was when it clicked in Jon’s head. The mark on his cheek, a bastard, Hand of the King, Lord Commander, Valyrian sword, weirwood bow. All of those things could only be attributed to one man in all the history of the Seven Kingdoms.

“You’re Brynden Rivers.”

“Once, perhaps. Now, I am simply a greenseer on the edge of the world.”

“How are you alive?” Jon asked.

Bloodraven looked down at his body. “I have been here so long, that the roots of this tree have grown into me, and I have become one with it. It sustains me, until I can find the heir to my power.”

“Which is Bran,” Jon affirmed.

“Your half-brother possesses the sight like I have not seen for many years, not since I inherited this power. But it is not he whom I wish to speak of. It is you.”

“Me?” Jon asked. “For what? I don’t have the sight or whatever it is.”

Bloodraven shook his head. “No, you are another piece, however. What do you know of your parentage?”

Jon’s eyes fell. “Eddard Stark is my father. I never met my mother. He wouldn’t even tell me her name.”

“It is not by his choice that his tongue cannot speak her name. Both for your protection as well as his.”

“Who was she?” Jon asked. When he received no answer from Bloodraven, he stepped closer. “You said you can see all of our lives. That means you’ve seen my mother. Who was she?”

Bloodraven looked at Jon with a blank expression. “You question is not as simple as speaking a name. Tell me, what do you know of the Great Tournament at Harrenhal?”

“My father spoke of it. Said he attended with his father and siblings. His sister Lyanna was crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen,” Jon answered.

Bloodraven nodded. “She was. I suppose you also know that Robert’s Rebellion began when Prince Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna Stark?”

Jon nodded. “Aye.”

“I thought as much. What if I told you that Lyanna Stark was not kidnapped?”

Jon scoffed. “What? She went with a Targaryen willingly?”

At Bloodraven’s serious stare, Jon’s mouth dropped open. “Then that would mean that Robert’s Rebellion was built on a lie.”

“It was,” Bloodraven said simply. “It was not malice that started a war, but love. Lyanna and Rhaegar’s love. Did your father ever tell you of the Tower of Joy?”

Jon nodded. “Aye, he defeated Ser Arthur Dayne at the Tower of Joy.”

“Did he also tell you that he found his sister inside?”

“He did. He said she was dead when he found her.”

“When he returned to Winterfell with her body, what else was in his possession?” Bloodraven asked.

Jon crossed his arms. “Well, me. But I don’t see how-”

His breath left his body as he realized what Bloodraven was telling him. His mother was Lyanna Stark. She had died in childbirth. Rhaegar’s child. Jon went weak at the knees, falling to them as his mind began to run a mile a minute. First a sense of peace as he found out who his mother was, but that was quickly replaced by anger.

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Jon whispered.

Bloodraven looked down at the Night’s Watchman. “He promised your mother that he would keep you safe. Robert had sworn to destroy every Targaryen within his grasp. Even his friendship with Eddard Stark wouldn’t stop him from killing you. It would ignite a bloody civil war between the North and the Stormlands.”

Jon slammed a fist down onto the damp ground. “He could have told me. He knew what the Wall was. He knew who  _ I _ was. Still, he allowed me to come here. Why? Did he not love my mother?”

“He loved your mother with everything he had. It broke him to lose her, just as you would have been had your brother died from his fall.”

“So I’m the bastard son of Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Bloodraven shook his head again. “You are not. Rhaegar and your mother were wed in secret. You are one of two remaining Targaryens on the face of the earth. Your true name is Aegon Targaryen, the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

Jon stared out at the glistening snow, his mind moving faster than the icy winds. His anger burned hot enough to melt the snow, yet he had nothing to unleash it on. He was angry at his once-thought father, who now turned out to be his uncle. He was more angry at Lady Stark, because she hated him for a now unjustified reason. He was angry at his biological mother for starting this in the first place. But most of all, he was angry at himself for not seeing it coming. 

As he continued to stand at the mouth of the cave, he heard footsteps behind him. Turning his head, he saw Hodor carrying Bran. the half-giant set the little lord down on the ground next to Jon, placing his back against the cave wall.

“Did he tell you?” Jon asked.

Bran nodded. “He did. What will you do now?”

Jon shook his head, looking down at his now cousin. “No matter who I am, I can’t stay, Bran. Your father taught us honor and loyalty. No matter how angry I am at him, or who I really am, I still swore an oath. I have to go back.”

“But you’ll be killed!” Bran protested.

Jon shrugged. “So what if I am? No one cared about me in the first place. The Night’s Watch is the one place I actually felt I belonged. If I can’t make it back, there was no other place for me anyways.”

Bran dropped his head. “But I need you.”

“You have Rodrik. And Bloodraven said it himself, this place has powerful magic surrounding it. The dead can’t get in, so you’re safe,” Jon said. “I have to get back to the Wall and warn them about the wildlings.”

Bran nodded. “Alright, Jon.”

As Jon turned on his heel to go collect his things from the chamber, his brother’s voice halted him. “Father loves you as his own. I hope you know that.”

Jon stalked into the large chamber and belted on Longclaw, slinging his small pack of provisions over his shoulder. Bloodraven opened his glossy eyes and studied him closely. “Leaving?”

“You going to try and stop me?” Jon challenged.

Bloodraven slowly shook his head. “On the contrary, I knew you would leave. Remember, I can see all. Whether or not you accept it, you are the heir to the Iron Throne, and the only surviving male Targaryen.”

“Get to the point, old man,” Jon said impatiently.

Bloodraven reached down into the depths of the tree that he was apart of, pulling something upwards. What came into view surprised Jon. Two swords hilts, black leather grips and rubies set into the pommels, were handed to Jon. One had a thin blade and grip, meant for finesse fighting rather than heavy battle. The other was thicker, and had a hand-and-a-half grip, the same as Longclaw, except the blade was longer and wider.

Sliding both slightly out of their scabbards, Jon looked down to see that they were both Valyrian steel, a darker shade, but the swirling patterns were clear. He looked up to Bloodraven. “What are these?”

“The swords of House Targaryen, thought lost to history,” the old man informed.

“Bu they’ve been here the whole time.”

“Yes. I spirited them away north when I left the Night’s Watch. Dark Sister, the sword of Visenya Targaryen, and Blackfyre, the sword of Aegon the Conqueror. Wars have been waged over its possession. I now entrust them to you, the heir of House Targaryen.”

Jon looked down at them with confusion. “But why? I’m a brother of the Night’s Watch. I have no one to pass these to.”

Bloodraven simply stared blankly at Jon. “Take them with you. You will need them for the wars to come. These swords have always been wielded by members of House Targaryen. You may wish to have Blackfyre for yourself, but another is destined for Dark Sister. I will say no more. Go in peace, Jon Snow.”

Jon inclined his head in thanks to Bloodraven. After bidding his farewells to the others, he strapped the extra two swords to his back and stepped out into the cold wilderness. Careful not to wake any dead that may remain, Jon turned and climbed the hill, passing by the trunk of the Weirwood tree, running his hand over the smooth bark before heading south.

* * *

Casterly Rock was a welcome sight for Jaime. Bronn next to him, the sellsword was a welcome change of pace, despite his teasing and oddly insightful comments. The two had ridden through the gates a little past noon, welcomed enthusiastically by the guards and soldiers in attendance. Time being of the essence, Jaime took all the steps two at a time, reaching the lord’s hall, where a council was already meeting. 

Jaime turned to the master of arms. “Where are we with troop mobilizations?”

“We’re estimating ten thousand men in total, my lord. Two thousand are currently here at the rock, with another three thousand at Lannisport. We are expecting the other five thousand men from the rest of the Westerlands within a fortnight.”

Jaime nodded. “Good work, speed them up as soon as possible, we must march on the capital with all haste.”

The men of the council bowed and left the room quickly to set preparations for the coming army. Bronn leaned against the door after it closed, resting his hands on his sword belt. “You really think you can win this fight? Seems like they’ve got you lot on the back foot.”

Jaime looked back at the mercenary. “I thought you had confidence in the Lannisters? My brother certainly seemed to think so.”

“Ha!” Bronn laughed. “I’m a sellsword, and you Lannisters shit gold. That’s the only reason I’m here. But I tend to favor my life over gold.”

“You’re an anointed knight!” Jaime exclaimed. “You’ve risen in the ranks of the Lannister army under my brother. You’re not a common sellsword.”

Bronn pushed off of the door and approached Jaime. “Titles don’t mean shit until a war is over. Your brother promised me lands with a castle. Until then, no one gets to kill any of you yellow-haired twats unless I say so. Which is why I’m asking if you can win.”

Jaime chuckled. “You have a very narrow view of war.”

“No,” Bronn said, seating himself at the table. “I just see the world for what it is. This war, that war. Whoever wins sets the rules. And sellswords prefer to live and spend the gold they earn.”

Just as Bronn finished, a messenger burst through the door, staring frantically at the two men. “Ser Jaime! It’s Lannisport! It’s been attacked!”

Jaime and Bronn quickly followed the man out to the battlements that overlooked the city. Lannisport was burning. Fire raged through the streets, and a massive armada of ships with back sails and kraken sigils occupied the waters. The Lannister fleet had long since been sunk, and ironborn were being ferried onto the docks by the shipload. There were far too many for Jaime to do anything about them now.

He turned to the messenger behind him. “Pull all forces back into Casterly Rock. We don’t have the men to retake the city. Tell the men to prepare for a siege.”

Jaime glanced to with worry. The sellsword had a look that seemed to say ‘I told you so.’

* * *

“Fucking heat. Why did I agree to follow you, Dayne, you dumb cunt?”

Austin chuckled at the Hound’s curses. The three of them were not having an easy time with the heat that plagued them. The sun warmed the sand under their feet, making it feel as if they were wading into a forge. Stretching for miles in every direction, the desert was merciless. If they hadn’t been following the Torentine River, they would have run out of water days ago. 

Strangely, this leg of the journey seemed easier than the first to Austin at least. He’d removed his armor long ago, and had rolled the sleeves of his linen shirt up, but his other companions were clearly suffering. To Austin, it felt as if he was returning home, so his mood was bright and cheery, providing a sharp contrast to the moods of his companions. Even Ingavar, who was fiercely loyal to Austin, seemed to want to murder the tall Dayne.

Edric was panting as hard as Ingavar next to him. The bear had to walk with his paws in the water to keep his feet from being burned. The Hound brought up the rear, shirt drenched, dripping sweat onto his saddle, which dried in seconds.

“I thought you wanted revenge, Clegane,” Austin called over his shoulder.

The Hound snorted. “Not sure revenge is worth this shit.”

“Go take a swim if you’re so hot. Unless you’re scared of water, too,” Austin teased, eliciting a laugh from Edric.

“Say that again and I’ll leave your corpse for the birds, Dayne.”

“Any idea where we are?” Edric asked.

“We passed Blackmont a few days a go to the east, so I’d say less than a week,” Austin said.

“Good,” the Hound said gruffly.

Ever since they’d arrived in Dorne, their progress had slowed. The horses had to be watered more often, and they stopped at every shaded area they came across to prevent their skin from burning off. Also, not helping the journey, was the Hound’s incessant complaints.

Austin was dragged out of his thoughts by a rider appearing on the horizon. He wore the colors of House Dayne, a turban covering his face. His sand steed neighed as he studied them from on top of a sand dune. For several seconds, Austin stared back, until the rider turned and galloped back the way he came.

Austin turned to look at the others. “Well, they know we’re coming.”

* * *

Brogan ran up the stair to Starfall’s hall. A scout from the hills had ridden in only mere moments before, bringing urgent news for Ser Gerold. Pushing open the doors, Brogan bowed lightly to the man sat upon the throne before stepping forward further.

“My lord, your cousins, Ser Austin and Edric Dayne, were sighted along the banks of the Torentine, traveling south.”

Gerold smiled savagely at this. “So, they finally come for me. I was expecting a northern army, but coming alone will only make it that much easier for me to defeat them.”

“Should we capture them, my lord?” Brogan asked.

Gerold stood from his seat, both hands grasping the hilt of Dawn as he moved to the window that overlooked the sea. “They intend to reclaim this castle, don’t they? Well I won’t let them. It’s mine, and I won it. If they want it so badly, they will have to win it back.”

He turned back to Brogan after his mental bout. “I want you to take a dozen men, Brogan. Escort them here, nothing more. I will have words with them before I kill them.”

Brogan bowed once again, backing away slowly before leaving the hall completely. Gerold unnerved him, and every second in his presence was like dipping your foot in a pit of snakes. Nevertheless, the captain gathered a dozen men and rode out the gates nearly an hour later.

* * *

Ned glanced around the now somewhat crowded war table. His own northern bannermen dominated the table, but what others he had commanded great respect such as Brynden Tully or Bronze Yohn Royce. 

“Now is the time to march on the capital!” Greatjon Umber bellowed. “We can siege them out until they all starve to death!”

Ser Brynden the Blackfish shook his head. “If we spread out for a long siege, they could sally out and crumble our lines before they even form. We have to bait them into the field.”

Ned glanced up to Ser Barristan, who stood over his left shoulder. The old knight shrugged, as he had no idea how to manage such an ungainly crowd of lords. They were all bickering amongst themselves and Ned was forced to his feet to shout at them.

“Enough!” 

As the room quieted, so did Ned’s voice. “As much as I believe that caution is our ally, marching on them now may catch them unprepared. And if it doesn’t, waiting only gives Tywin Lannister time to gather more men. We attack now, or we won’t get the chance to go at the capital for a long time.”

Many of the lords loudly agreed, while others noticeably remained silent. Ned nodded to the group. “Dismissed.”

When all of the lords had filed out, Ned motioned for Ser Barristan to take a seat. “What do you think?”

Ser Barristan weighed the options. “Either decision could potentially be a bad one. But they could also either be the right one.”

Ned nodded. “Any word from Austin and Edric?”

Barristan shook his head. “No word. But they should be close to Starfall, if they haven’t reached it already.”

Ned nodded. “That’s good. Our lives depends on their success.”

* * *

Austin held up a closed fist, halting the party. “Listen.”

At the sound of hoofbeats, the three drew their swords, and Ingavar bared his teeth, stepping out of the cool water. Ahead, over the crest of a sand dune, a group of riders appeared. All wearing the colors of House Dayne, they pointed towards the group of travelers and rode their way, leaving their swords in their scabbards, strangely.

Austin trotted his horse forward, wary of the approaching men as Edric, the Hound, and Ingavar lined up on his sides. He rested his sword on his right shoulder as the men came to a halt in front of them. The largest of the men, a seasoned warrior by the look of him, with a scruffy beard and broad shoulders, urged his horse forward a few paces. 

“You are Ser Austin Dayne, are you not?” he asked.

Austin remained silent, looking the man up and down with a hard expression. The man bowed his head. “I’m Brogan, the captain of Ser Gerold’s guard, sent to escort you to Starfall.”

“You mean cut our throats in our sleep,” Austin said simply.

Brogan shook his head. “We’re under orders from Ser Gerold to bring you before him.”

“We were just headed there ourselves, so turn around and ride back. Tell Ser Gerold that I’m gonna shove my sword up his ass,” Austin said harshly.

Brogan smirked noticeably. “I’m afraid I cannot leave you, ser. You see, there is something that we wish to discuss with you.”

Brogan was no fool. When Gerold had ordered him to pick a dozen men, Brogan chose those who were known dissenters, unhappy about the acting lord of Starfall. With these men, he’d proposed a plan, and each had agreed.

Austin raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

“We would like to aid you against Gerold.”

* * *

Riding into Starfall after all this time felt like returning to a place you no longer knew. The cheer that had once permeated the walls of the castle had long since been purged, leaving only hushed whispers and a sense of dread spilling over the battlements.

Once their group was inside the iron gate, it was closed behind them, leaving them trapped between it and an army of soldiers. Brogans group rode off to the side and dismounted, leaving the Daynes and the Hound mounted.

The Clegane leaned over to Austin. “I didn’t come all this way to die in this shit castle.”

“We won’t,” Austin assured, eyes never leaving the soldiers assembled around them. A shield wall had been created, leaving them no place to escape. The two ranks in the center of the line parted to allow a tall man with the same stark white hair and purple eyes as Edric and Austin. He had the hilt of a sword Austin knew all too well protruding over his right shoulder, and was clad entirely in black armor with purple leather beneath. Having donned his armor before they arrived, Austin felt much safer with it on, not that it would do much against so many men.

The approaching Ser Gerold clapped slowly. “I must commend you, Ser Austin. Your journey here was anticipated, but I was expecting an army, not three men and a bear.”

Austin scoffed. “I don’t need an army to kill you,” he said as his dismounted to face Gerold.

Gerold chuckled nonchalantly. “A brash boast. Tell me, Ser Austin. What keeps me from ordering my men to kill the four of you right now.”

“Your pride,” Austin said simply. “I challenge you to single combat, Gerold.”

“That’s  _ Ser _ Gerold.”

“You’re no knight. You betrayed all of your vows the day you invaded this castle and caused the death of our aunt,” Edric spat from atop his horse.

Gerold smirked. “Ah, the famous Edric Dayne. Quite the accomplished diplomat, are we? That wasn’t a very diplomatic thing to say, I’m afraid.”

“Enough,” Austin said. “Do you accept?”

All previous teasing and amusing attitude disappeared in the blink of an eye as Gerold’s eyes darkened with malice. “Oh, I accept.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, the story is now up to date with the current one on Fanfiction. Unfortunately, due to interest in other subjects, I've decided to put the story on hiatus. I am obligated to deliver the best content possible, and I cannot force myself to write and expect the result to be the best I could possibly achieve.

**Chapter 35**

Jon had scarcely stopped for a meal since his departure from Bloodraven’s cave. He ate snow for water, only stopping to eat small rations here and there, continuing to press ever onward, praying to the Old Gods that he wouldn’t be too late to save his brothers. 

He was forced to skirt around the massive trails that Mance’s army eft in the snow once he neared the Wall. Coming to the massive ice structure several miles to the west, he followed it all the way to the gate at Castle Black. When he heard the familiar horns as he approached, Jon perked up. He adjusted the swords on his back, attempting to hide them with his fur hood as he waited for the gate to open in front of him.

He didn’t wait long, as several seconds later, the iron and steel gate rose upwards along its tracks, revealing a group of rangers, swords drawn. At the head was Ser Alliser Thorne, the First Ranger since Benjen’s disappearance. The group leveled their swords at Jon, who raised his hands in surrender.

“That you, Snow? Always knew you were a traitor, you bastard,” Thorne spat.

Jon shook his head. “It’s not like that. I’ll explain everything.”

Thorne smirked with satisfaction. “I’m sure you will, Snow. I’d love to hear it.”

“Just take me to the Lord Commander and I can explain everything,” Jon said calmly.

The group glanced at each other. “Lord Commander’s dead, Snow. And you’re wearing wildling colors, you fucking traitor.”

Jon paled, eyes wide. What had happened? Had he died at the Fist of the First Men? Had the dead pursued the survivors south? He looked to Ser Alliser. “How?”

The First Ranger and now evidently Acting Commander sheathed his sword. “Get him inside. And give him some black colors.”

* * *

As the council before him stared down at Jon, who stood with his hands clasped behind his back, he began to think that his audience was arrayed against him. Between Ser Alliser, Lord Janos, and First Builder Yarwick, only Maester Aemon would remotely take his side. 

It was evident from the start that Lord Janos was used to more politics and fancy speaking than was required at the Wall. He also was most likely to seeing knights everywhere, which would be why he’d gravitated towards Ser Alliser already.

“So you admit you murdered Qhorin Halfhand?” Ser Alliser accused.

“I didn’t murder him.”

“No?” Ser Alliser asked. “You put your sword through a brother of the Night’s Watch, what do you call that?”

“He wanted me to kill him,” Jon said.

Alliser scoffed with Janos. “The bastard son of a traitor to the crown. What’d you expect?” the bald, round man asked.

“The Halfhand believed our only chance to stop Mance was to get a man inside his army,” Jon defended.

“Don’t talk about the Halfhand as if you knew him. He was my brother,” Alliser said angrily.

Jon’s eyes hardened. “Then you’d know he’d do anything to defend the Wall. The Free Folk would’ve boiled him alive, but letting me kill him-”

“The Free Folk?” Janos smirked. “He even talks like a wildling.”

“Aye I talk like a wildling. I ate with the wildlings, I drank with the wildlings, I...I lay with a wildling girl.”

“You admit to breaking your vows, then?” Janos asked, receiving a nod from Jon. “The law is the law, the boy must die.”

“If we beheaded every ranger who lay with a girl, the Wall would be manned by headless men,” Maester Aemon said, milky eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Ser Alliser snorted. “There’s a difference between sneaking off to the Mole’s Town brothel, and sleeping with the enemy.”

Jon took a deep breath. “While we sit here debating which rules I broke, Mance Rayder marches on the Wall with an army of a hundred thousand. He’s united the Thenns, the Hornfoots, the Ice River Clans, he has giants fighting for him.”

Giants,” Lord Janos scoffed, glancing over at Ser Alliser. Evidently, the former lord was amused, at least until he saw the serious expression on both Thorne’s and Aemon’s faces. 

Jon looked at him. “Have you ever been beyond the Wall, ser?”

“I commanded the City Watch of King’s Landing, boy.”

“And now you’re here, you must not have been very good at your job,” Jon stated. “There’s a band of wildlings that I was sent with, led by Tormund Giantsbane. Their mission was to climb the Wall and hit Castle Black from the South while Mance hits it from the north. I killed their warg when I escaped. Mance said the signal will be the biggest fire the north’s ever seen. That’s the truth, all the truth. Now do you intend to execute me, or am I free to go?”

“None of us are free,” Maester Aemon said quickly, before Thorne could speak. “We are men of the Night’s Watch. But we won’t be taking your head today, Jon Snow. Go on.”

Jon nodded to the men sat at the table before making his exit. He made his way to his quarters, where he closed the door behind him and leaned against the door, taking deep breaths, thankful to have his life. His eyes wandered to the three swords that leaned against his bed. Walking over to them, he picked up the two largest ones, leaving Dark Sister where it was. 

Weighing the two swords in his hands, he found that they were nearly equal in weight, despite Blackfyre being considerably larger. He contemplated wielding the Targaryen sword, but it would raise suspicion among the Night’s Watch, so he tucked the two Targaryen swords under his mattress, belting on the familiar Longclaw. He made a mental note to change the pommel back to a bear, though, to honor the late Lord Commander. Mutiny was not a way that Jon would wish for anyone to go.

* * *

A knock on the door of Harrenhal’s lord’s hall prompted Ned to raise his head. “Enter.”

Barristan wordlessly allowed himself in with the cousins Manderly and Theon Greyjoy. “I’m pleased to report that the men are ready to march, Your Grace. We await your signal.”

Ned nodded as he fastened his heavy wolfskin cloak around his shoulders. “Good. And what of the garrison?”

“Lord Halys Hornwood will remain here with a skeleton garrison, as you have commanded,” Barristan said.

Theon stepped forward at a motion from Ned, looping the straps of Ice around the King in the North’s shoulders, the wolfskin-coated scabbard blending in with the fur of his cloak. “Very good Ser Barristan. Give the order, we march for Rosby.”

Barristan bowed and took his leave with Theon as the cousins Manderly took up positions behind Ned, escorting the King in the North down to his horse. Most of the northern lords were already saddled, and their house guards were formed up behind, all in the courtyard of Harrenhal. Several dozen guards were stationed around their posts, most of them bearing the sigil of House Hornwood, as they would remain at Harrenhal.

Ned mounted his horse at the head of the column. To his right was the Greatjon, and behind him, Lords Yohn Royce and Galbart Glover. The Wolfguard rode ahead of Ned. At a nod from their King, Ser Barristan waved the procession forward. 

When they passed through the gates, thousands upon thousands of men could be seen beginning their march, looking like a sea of leather and metal and horses ready to crash upon the banks of King’s Landing.

Ned sighed as he readied himself for yet another battle. He missed his family, the comfort of Winterfell, and most of all, his wife. He needed to win this war as quickly as possible in order to return to them. If that meant slaughtering every soldier that chose to oppose them, then that’s what he would do.

* * *

The men of House Dayne had formed a large square in the center of Starfall’s courtyard, their shields ready to form the combat arena. There was a sort of buzz among them as they debated who would win, some of the more hushed tones were the ones that doubted Gerold’s ability. Others whispered of Ser Austin’s exploits and wondered if this wouldn’t be a duel for the ages.

Two wooden chairs had been brought from the castle hall and placed on opposite sides of the courtyard, only several feet in front of the wall of soldiers. The two combatants sere seated in said chairs, surrounded by their personal entourages. Brogan stood over Gerold’s shoulder with an uneasiness as Gerold simply clutched the hilt of Dawn and glared with a creepy smile.

Austin stared Gerold down, their eyes never leaving each other. Austin’s anger and anticipation was boiling over. All calm feelings of returning home had been thrust out of the window along with his composure. All he cared about now was driving his sword through the heart of his murderous relative.

Edric adjusted the final strap of Austin’s armor and patted his cousin on the breastplate. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m burning,” Austin replied, still staring straight ahead.

The Hound shook his head. “You don’t know what that feels like. Still, there are stories about this fucker that will make your blood run cold. You still want to fight him?”

“I do,” Ausin replied, his glare only intensifying. “What do you think?”

“I think he wants to kill us,” Edric stated sarcastically.

“He’s confident,” the Hound said. “He’ll toy with you in the beginning. Make him respect your sword and he’ll fight like a man instead of a cunt.”

Austin nodded, standing to his feet and pulling his helmet down over his head. He unbuckled his sword belt after drawing the blade, tossing the leather strip and empty scabbard to Edric. Without looking down, he patted Ingavar on the top of his head to reassure the bear. Stepping forward towards the center of the square in the dirt, Austin watched as Gerold rose to meet him. 

The only armor that the dark knight wore was a jerkin of purple and black hardened leather, as well as a pair of black leather bracers. Austin was clad in his usual silver breastplate, the sigil of House Dayne shining on his collarbone. Two silver bracers covered his forearms, and thick, black leather boots, the material already turning brown from the sand, held his feet. His helmet directed his long, white hair down the back of his neck and back.

Edric grabbed Austin’s arm and turned him around. The younger Dayne studied the eyes of Austin from behind his helmet. Seeing they were like a mask of stone, Edric smirked. He pulled Austin closer, pressing his forehead against his cousin’s helmet. 

“Remember. Everything he’s done. Our home. Our aunt. Remember it all,” Edric said, shaking Austin’s shoulder with practically every syllable. 

Austin nodded wordlessly, fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword as he turned away from Edric to face his traitorous relative. Gerold chuckled as he approached. “An impressive sight, Ser Austin. Taller than your father, to be sure. Though he was far the superior swordsman. I didn’t dare challenge the main house while he lived and wielded this sword.”

Gerold brandished Dawn proudly, stabbing it towards the sky, watching as the brilliant rays of sunshine glimmered off of the white metal like white fire. His eyes met Austin’s, the younger knight seething in fury at the sight of the sword.

“That doesn’t belong to you,” he hissed.

Gerold chuckled. “Actually, I think it does. Any member of House Dayne may wield it, provided he is deemed worthy. Well, there were no other members of our house in the castle, so I deemed myself worthy. Though I quite prefer Darkstar to the Sword of the Morning, the shadows always did suit me better.”

“Enough talk,” Austin growled, stepping forward to circle Gerold, sword tip inclined upwards towards his opponent’s face. 

Though Gerold displayed a confident and cruel personality, Austin could see his eyes studying every move that he made. The way his feet shifted when he took a step, how his hips rotated. Austin knew that he faced an experienced swordsman even before their blades clashed. The attentiveness of the two betrayed their experience well before then.

“You move well, Austin,” Gerold complimented with a smirk. “Perhaps those northmen  _ do _ know how to handle a sword.”

“That’s  _ Ser _ Austin to you!” Austin corrected as he dashed forwards to deliver the first blow, a low, upward-arcing slash that would have taken Gerold’s head off had Dawn not intercepted it. Gerold spun Austin’s steel sword around and attempted a backhanded strike that Austin stepped back to avoid.

Replacing his two-handed grip on the hilt of his sword, Austin resumed his stance, using his eyes to challenge Gerold. Takin the bait, the older Dayne thrust forward, leading with the tip of Dawn. Austin smirked in triumph, swinging his blade across to knock Dawn out of Gerold’s hands, but was surprised to find Gerold was no longer there. 

The knight had feinted a thrust and had spun the opposite way. Even as Austin turned, Dawn was on its way towards his neck. Cursing internally, he dropped into a roll and dove forward to escape Gerold’s range.

Austin clambered to his feet just in time to block a hammering strike on his left side from Gerold. Austin held his blade their, shoving back against the smaller man as their blades locked. The two stood in the center of the makeshift arena for several seconds, neither gaining a significant strength advantage. 

Finally, Austin managed to force Gerold back a few inches before landing a savage right hook to Gerold’s jaw, sending him reeling. The older Dayne wiped his mouth and spat out blood as he paced back and forth, staring at Austin.

“It must be hard for you,” he began. “To never be wanted, I mean. Your whole life, you’ve been nothing but a side character in a Braavosi play.”

“Shut up,” Austin growled.

“I pity you, honestly. To constantly live in someone’s shadow that you never truly knew. Your father was twice the swordsman that you are, but I’m sure that you’ve heard that before.”

“I said shut up,” Austin repeated, causing Gerold to smirk. He knew that he was threatening Austin’s already fragile self-control. All it would take was one more push.

“You’re nothing more than a misguided tool, sent into an impossible situation just to die. Edric knows that you can’t win, yet he pushes you into this fight in an attempt to win back a castle that he can’t win back himself. You’re nothing more than a pawn to him. And Ned Stark? He didn’t take you in out of the goodness of his heart. No, he’ll use you until you’re spent, then cast you aside like a stray dog. Not to mention your father? How many times did the two of you meet? Once? Twice? What does that say? Oh, I know. He  _ never _ loved you!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Austin roared as he charged, aiming a strong blow at Gerold’s head. 

Darkstar grinned in triumph as he sidestepped and pivoted around behind Austin. He slammed the flat of Dawn against the side of Austin’s head, knocking his helmet clean off and freeing his mane of white hair.

Austin spun back around with a quick backhanded swing, then a two-handed slash that would have cleaved Gerold open from left shoulder to right hip had he not raised Dawn to block it. The two men leaned forward over their blades and stared into each other’s eyes. 

Austin’s were like purple steel, as if they were attempting to stab Gerold themselves. The eyes of Darkstar were much more calm and alert, still studying the way that his opponent fought. Austin had since abandoned all logic, focusing solely on rage to guide his actions, which left him open for a counterattack.

Gerold used the crossguard of Dawn to flick Austin’s blade upwards, then attempted to smash the pommel into the younger Dayne’s forehead, but Austin was ready for it, the same move having been used on him by Bronn not too long ago. 

He leaned as far back as he could, watching as the fist containing Dawn flew overhead. He swung his left leg out and swept Gerold’s feet out from under him, watching as the knight landed on his back with a thump, sending a dust cloud in all directions. Austin went for a downward stab to end it all, but Gerold knocked the blade away, kicked Austin in the chest, and threw a fistful of sand into the Dayne’s eyes.

Austin yelped and stepped back a few paces as he furiously rubbed at his eyes. Gerold used this opportunity to leap to his feet and rush at Austin. Managing to clear the sand out of his right eye, Austin popped it open just in time to block Gerold’s sideways swing. Forced to fight with one eye as his left was still clamped shut and filled with sand, Austin knew he was at a disadvantage. 

Gritting his teeth in anger, he stepped forward, unleashing a series of savage blows that Gerold either blocked or ducked underneath. With his left eye clamped shut, Austin didn’t even see the fist that impacted with the side of his head, sending him reeling before a sharp, burning pain erupted in his left shoulder. Turning his head and glancing down, his eye widened at the sight of the pristine blade of Dawn buried in his left shoulder, just below the collarbone.

Gerold was staring down at him with a look of victory that would have put even the cockiest of individuals to shame. “I’ve had fun,  _ Ser _ Austin.”

Austin shook his head as his vision blurred from the pain. His sword clattered to the ground next to him as he fell to one knee. Breathing heavily, each intake like a stab in the lungs, Austin watched as his sweat dripped off of his face, mixing with the blood and sand on the ground.

He raised his head to Gerold, who still displayed the victorious grin. Austin gasped in pain as he stared into the violet eyes that virtually matched his own. Despite his wound, he still managed a small smirk.

“You know what your problem is? You’re too sure of yourself,” Austin spat before uppercutting his traitorous cousin in the bottom of the jaw, sending him sprawling to the sandy ground. Austin took what little time he’d bought himself to pry the blade of Dawn out of his chest, the sharp star-forged steel cutting through his gloves like paper and causing his hands to bleed. 

Holding the ancestral blade in his right hand, he took the time to finally free his left eye of the sandy hell it had been going through. Each movement of his left arm felt like someone pressing a torch to the appendage, but he couldn’t stop now. He retrieved his other sword with his left hand and rose to his full height, staring ahead at his cousin, two swords in his hands.

Gerold turned to a man that compromised the shield wall and confiscated his weapon with a grumble, grasping the hilt with two hands as he faced Austin more warily this time. The younger, taller knight took a deep breath, ignoring the stabbing pain in his shoulder, and settled his nerves. 

The men of House Dayne had taken to murmuring among themselves, as none of them had seen Dawn wielded alongside another sword since the days of Ser Arthur, and never before that. Such was the swordsmanship of the former Sword of the Morning. Perhaps this young knight was indeed his heir, and carried his skill with him.

Ignoring the chatter around him, Austin slowly stepped towards Gerold, swords held at his sides, awaiting the opportune moment. As he approached, he picked up speed and brought both blades to his right side. Gerold raised his sword to block both of them, but the force behind two swords knocked his blade aside with such force that it caused his entire body to spin.

He brought the steel blade in his left in a low sweep, aimed for Gerold’s legs, but the older knight jumped backwards and raised his sword to block an overhead blow from Austin. A jab from the left followed by a slash from the right forced Gerold to give yet more ground. What had once been a fight controlled almost solely by Gerold had been flipped on its head, with Darkstar now purely on the defensive once Austin had gained control of his emotions. But perhaps the best part of all of it was the fact that Gerold’s confident demeanor had all but evaporated. 

This went on for several minutes. The two combatants circling and slashing, dodging and thrusting at each other, with Gerold on the receiving end for most of it. Austin’s newfound ability to dual-wield had taken the older knight completely off guard, and he was starting to see glimpses of Ser Arthur in his mind. The boy was nearly an exact mirror of his father, both in physical appearance as well as skill with a blade.

And so, when Gerold’s blade was forced out of his hands after a foolhardy thrust, he could only bow his head in defeat. As the steel landed in the sand several meters away, Gerold fell to his knees in the exact center of the makeshift arena. He chuckled darkly.

“Just like your father. I never could beat his two swords, not once. Perhaps you are indeed destined for that sword. Perhaps it betrayed me. I suppose I’ll never know,” Gerold said, dropping his head and preparing for the death blow. 

Austin tossed the steel blade in his left hand aside, planting the tip of Dawn, which was still stained with his blood, in the sand. He stared down at Gerold with venomous eyes, studying the submissive stance taken, and wondering if it was some attempt of a trick.

“Look at me,” Austin hissed, prompting Gerold to raise his head. 

The two locked eyes for one final time, the gaze seeming to last for hours. Austin pulled Dawn out of the dirt and grasped the hilt with both hands. “This is for our aunt.”

And so, Dawn, the ancestral sword of House Dayne, the sword meant only for those worthy, descended towards the man who had wrongfully claimed it with a vengeance. The blade seemed to leave white streaks in the air as it descended, the sunlight reflecting off of it beautifully. Adding to the white brilliance was a sea of red as it passed seamlessly through muscle, skin, and bone, severing the head of Ser Gerold Dayne, Darkstar.

Austin fell to his knees himself, dropping Dawn and clutching at his left shoulder in pain. His eyes welled with tears at what he’d finally accomplished as he gazed to the bright, cloudless sky and roared in triumph, Ingavar’s own deep roar adding to his.

Edric rushed forward and looped Austin’s right arm around his neck, supporting the Dayne as the Hound flanked them. The three of them and Ingavar glanced warily around at the wall of soldiers that had all drawn their weapons, but their minds were soon put at ease when Brogan and his loyal band of a dozen men stepped forward to surround them, facing outwards.

“These men are the true heirs of House Dayne! You all know this to be true! Long have we served Darkstar out of fear, but no more! Today, we serve the rightful lords! Edric and Austin!” the large warrior bellowed as he raised his sword into the air.

The entire courtyard erupted into cheers as every single soul followed suit. Over a thousand men, all lining the castle walls, in the towers, down in the courtyard, all cheering their names filled the two cousins with more pride and sense of accomplishment than they could ever dream of. 

Austin grinned tiredly at his cousin. “We did it.”

Edric shook his head, patting Austin on the breastplate. “No,  _ you _ did it. Here.”

Edric passed Dawn, which he’d picked up out of the dirt, into Austin’s hands. “You deserve this.”

Edric allowed Austin to stand on his own as he stepped back a few paces and held a hand towards his cousin. “The Sword of the Morning!” he called. The men once again repeated the phrase, multiplying its volume a thousandfold as Austin raised the star-forged sword into the air. 

“THE SWORD OF THE MORNING!”


End file.
